Riotgrrls In Love
by Lyta Halifax
Summary: So Chloe and I bought an RV. So Chloe and I left Arcadia Bay. Together. At last. The way we were meant to. Between now and fifteen months later when I start college, life is nothing but wide, blank pages, dying to be filled in. [Pricefield AU, Post-Ending fluff series. Rated M for some yuri-flavored lemons. A sequel to The Ever-Ending Sacrifice]
1. Chloe And Max Hit The Road

"So what do you think, babe?"

Chloe stands before the RV, arms held out towards it, even bouncing a bit. She's just a couple weeks off the cane, and this only confirms my suspicions that she milked the whole experience for as much as it was worth. On the other hand, she hated the thing at first, and wouldn't shut up about how much she did until I bought her this elegant black lacquered walking stick with a pewter skull on the top. Afterwards, she found any excuse she could to show it off, so I suppose I should be flattered she was so reluctant to give it up.

We're at an estate sale, on an early May morning, looking over the flotsam and jetsam of those who rode the waves of the credit-fueled American Dream until they got too close to the rocky shoals of financial uncertainty, crashing upon the banks of...okay, sorry, I'm stretching this metaphor out waaaay too long.

The important part here is that recreational vehicles? Are like ridiculously expensive under normal circumstances. If we bought one new, there would be barely anything left of the money Chloe got, so I got creative. Starting looking around for opportunities. Which brings us back to here. This 2002 Fleetwood Tioga. I'll admit, the outside is in pretty good shape. It's been well used, but for an eleven year old RV, the milage is just a bit below average. Still a lot of years left in it. And really, we only need one. Although I'd like a lot more. I'd like to think this thing is going to be a keeper.

Still...

"It...it has potential. But sweetie, the engine. While I don't know a lot about that sort of thing, I'm pretty sure whatever we saw under the hood a few minutes ago is not good. That was definitely an engine with problems. Deep, intense, personal problems."

She shrugs at me, undeterred. "So? If you get this for anywhere close to what you're shooting for, we can probably just BUY a new engine. Or get a sweet rebuild."

I muse this over for a few moments, "That's true...and I do know a mechanic in town who owes me a favor or two."

Chloe tilts her head and smirks, "Oh really now? I didn't know that. How did you pull that off?" She drifts over, and grins, making a mock threatening fist, and states in an exaggerated, cartoony voice, "Because if the answer is anything other than he was bedazzled by your general awesomeness, Chloe's gonna have to punch a mechanic..."

I snort and lean up to kiss her on the tip of her nose. "Chill, Homer. I did some graphic design work for ads, and set him up with a webpage on the Internet." She leans in and hugs me gently, murmuring, "All right then. Violence averted. This time."

I lean against her and guide her towards the RV. "Fine, sweetie. Why don't we go inside and take a look around? Maybe there'll be an impromptu anger management session going on."

"If that's code for smoking weed, I would be so down with that."

Whatever waning enthusiasm I had for our potential purchase drops considerably once we poke around inside. It's not that it's busted up or dirty or anything like that. Honestly, in terms of outright condition, it was in pretty decent shape, and obviously well cared for. It's just that, in terms of actual appearances...

"Hooooly shit, this is a total geezer-mobile!" What Chloe lacks in tact, she makes up for in spot-on summation. Between the paisley upholstery, the lime green paneling coating the wood, the floral print blackout curtains, and the...I don't think they've invented a name for the shade of puce-beige that colors the carpeting.

I sigh heavily, crossing my arms as I poke around, muttering. "Geeze. Even the interior of Frank's RV had more taste and class than this."

"Buggy," - That's short for shutterbug. Chloe always likes to try out a new pet name every couple of weeks. "Frank didn't have any taste. Or class. At all."

"I repeat, even the interior..." A left-over Beanie Baby that was lying around on the couch gets tossed in my direction.

"All right, all right, fine. Yeah, I know this is a fixer upper, but if you manage to snag this baby without going over, everything else is fixable! ESPECIALLY this! I'm talking potentially. I mean look at us, two awesome art geek grrls! Well, maybe you more than me, but shit, you've seen my room. Now imagine all of that...all over here!" She punctuates the point by extending out her arms and waving her hands in random directions.

"Wellll..." I murmur, tapping my lips. "I mean, exams are almost over at Blackwell. I could probably get Kate, and a few of her friends to help us out. I don't know what we can easily do about the carpeting, but the rest..."

"Oh! I'll take care of that! Easy, right? I mean...I'll get...David to help me." She nodded once, and starts to wander around the rest of the cramped space. "He's handy with this kind of shit."

"Wow." I say, in a mostly-impressed voice. "It MUST be love at first sight if you would willingly ask Step-Darth for help. Do I have competition?"

She ambles over to me, and gently butts my head with hers. "Love? Yeah, maybe it is. But never competition." She gives me a brief smooch, and just HAS to add, "Although once we start having sex in this thing, does that count as a threesome?" I immediately hit her rear with the copy of the auction catalog in my hand.

"Behave!"

"Oh! Yes my lady Max, Former Mistress of Time and-or Space!"

I take her hand and lead her off.

"C'mon wiseguy. The bidding is gonna start soon. I want to double check some measurements on this thing first. Because you know we're going to be painting and decorating the outside as well."

"Oh. My God. Of course! I even have the greatest name picked out once we get her!"

"That's a big if, Chloe. We're not the only ones bidding, you know."

"Fuck them. She's ours! We're meant to be together, the three of us. The Pussywagon is ours!"

I nearly choke with shock, and then hit Chloe again with the catalog, this time on the back of her head. "Oh...God! We are NOT naming it that!"

She gives me the puppy-dog eyes, the ones that normally get me to relent. "But...but I'm only using the name ironically, babe."

I shake my head and continue dragging her out, "No. If we DO manage to somehow buy this thing, YOU are NOT allowed to name it. Period."

"Hey! No fair!" She reaches over, tracing her fingertips across the small of my back. "I mean...shouldn't that be up for negotiation?"

I bite down on my lip and suppress a shiver of delight. Still in the Oh-My-God-We're-Having-ALL-The-Sex phase of the relationship, Chloe has no shame about taking advantage of my weakness for her. But honestly, that's one of the reasons I love her.

Reluctantly I pull away, but soften it with a small peck on the lips. "Don't make me turn the rest of the weekend into a revival of _Lysistrata_ "

She snorts and shakes her head, "Damn, Max, we're going all Aristophanes, now? You know thaaaat's gonna suck just as much for you as it would for me. Mayyybe even a bit more?" She gives me a knowing look, and I flush down to my chest. I don't know what's sexier: how she knows how to push my buttons, or the fact that there's still a big huge brain underneath that skater chick beanie.

* * *

Eventually the bidding began. The RV came up during the first third of the auction, so we didn't have to wait more than a half hour of people buying things, either junk that was pointless or stuff way, way out of our league. And to make a long story short...

...we managed to win it!

I have to admit, I'm actually kind of surprised. You'd think the bidding would have been more competitive, but the weather was really pretty shitty earlier this morning. Sudden Spring storms that cleared out at the last second, so that depressed a lot of the turnout, I think. We almost busted past the upper ceiling I allowed for, and we may need to cancel one or two things on our road trip in order to give ourselves enough of an emergency cushion but still...

It's ours. Chloe and I. We're joint property owners! Of a house! A crappy, cramped house, but on wheels! This is so cool! And so...so grown up. Shit, these days, owning a house together is more serious than marriage. Just the contractual issues alone.

I blush at the thought, and look over my shoulder towards her, then smile to myself. We're in no rush in this relationship, but yeah; someday soon, we gotta put a ring on it.

"Oh. My. Fucking. God. Babe. Babe, babe, babe...look. Look!"

Chloe's pulling at my arm and pointing at the lot that's come up for bid, with hyperfrentic glee.

"It's Princess Sparklefists!"

"Wait. Who?"

I gaze over and blink a few times in quick succession, then look up the description in the catalog.

LOT #0050

TWO (2) CUSTOM VINYL APPLIQUES, PROMOTIONAL

50" H x 46" W

FEATURES COMIC BOOK CHARACTER "CAPTAIN MARVEL"  
ITEM(s) ORIGINALLY COMMISSIONED FOR COMIC WINDOW DISPLAY

REPOSSESSED TO AUCTION AFTER SHOP WENT INTO BANKRUPTCY

"Captain Marvel! We have to get that! We HAVE. TO!"

Chloe's more of the comic book geek, I have to admit. I'm somewhat familiar with the character, having read a few issues from Chloe's collection. And the Captain...is pretty cool. Carol Danvers. Awesome Air Force pilot turned into one of the world's most powerful superheroines. The decals are...I know I've seen it before. From the cover of one of the issues. She's in that completely bitching red and white suit with the high tabbed collar, pulling one of her gloves onto her fist. Hair in WAY better style than that weird mohawk thing from before. And it's a pair of them, mirror images, like they were meant to flank a shop door, pasted onto big plate glass windows.

Bidding is starting out slow, with someone willing to throw out thirty-five bucks to start.

"What are we going to do with a pair of big vinyl stickers?"

"I...I don't know! We'll figure it out. Here...gimme gimme!"

She grabs the auction paddle out of my hand and holds it out. "Forty-five!"

I gasp and glare at her. "Chloe! Seriously! Where are we going to put them?"

"We'll find a place!"

"Forty-five, forty-five, do I have fifty. Doooo I have fifty?"

"Fifty!"

Everyone turns over to look at the both of us. A few groans in the audience escape.

"Chloe!" I hiss. "Stop bidding against yourself!"

"S-sorry! I...oh God, I just want those decals so bad!"

I start to squint my eyes, as if staring at this thing through a skewed perspective will somehow give me an idea of...well...either what to do with it, or how to talk Chloe out of her insane quest to own it.

"Fifty-five!"

"Sixty!" Chloe immediately calls back. Damn. She will NOT be denied.

And that's when it suddenly hits me. I check the measurements again. Flip back to the page listing the RV - OUR new RV - and do some quick mental calculations.

Oh. Oh yes. Oh I TOTALLY see it now.

The bidding is up to eighty-five, and even Chloe's initial enthusiasm for this thing is starting to wane, as she counter bids in an increasingly nervous fashion. I reach out, wrapping my arm around her hips tight and lean in to give her strength and support.

"Ninty!"

"Ninty! Ninty! Who'll give me ninty-five, I say ninty-five!"

"One hundred and ten!" I call out, reaching over and lifting Chloe's arm up for her. I glance up, giving her my winningest smile.

"Babe!" she whispers "I...I really like the decal set, but how much can our budget take?"

"You let me worry about that, Punk Rock Girl. Let's focus on making sure the Captain comes home with us."

"Whoa. Kinky. But Momma like!"

We giggle conspiratorially, and keep the bidding war going.

* * *

It costs us almost two-hundred total, but we leave with both RV and decals in our possession. After the initial glow of conspicuous consumption fades, Chloe asks, with some nervousness in her voice, "Sweetie...I'm really thrilled you decided to go totes spontaneous here, but *please* don't tell me you spent all that money just to turn me on with your crazy devotion to my insane, impulsive plans. I mean, it totally worked, but still. You know me, I'm a cheap date...

I kiss her on the nose and whisper. "Wanna see a magic trick?"

She cants her head one way, and then other, her face a mask of confusion that seems to scream out, 'What shit you playing now, woman?'. She then gives a little shrug and says, "I guess...so?"

I grab a hold of one of the huge decals and work on dragging it over towards the side of the RV. With some effort I manage to hoist it up, holding it down against the conveniently sized blank spot on the side of the vehicle, just between the big windows.

"Et voila!" I call out with a flourish. "Shouldn't be too hard to figure out how to bond each one to a side."

Chloe holds out her hands, like she's framing a shot in a movie. She starts to giggle and jump a bit, "Oh shit! Oh God! Damn, yes! You are...Max, you're amazing!" She helps me bring the decal back down and then scoops me into her arms, kissing me fully on the lips. A kiss I'm more than happy to return, adding an additional nibble to the mix.

"Well. We've got a lot of work ahead of us, I suppose."

"Yeah. Yeah we do. Gonna be awesome though."

* * *

It was a three week whirlwind, getting everything ready before we could hit the road. Both of us working eight to ten hours a day or longer. Because remember what I said about becoming real adults? Yeah, buying an RV is a lot of work! For instance, I had to find insurance that wouldn't absolutely destroy our nest egg - although to be fair, I had most of that angle figured out before we bought it. But the thing is, you buy a motor home, it's kind of like getting a Harley, in that you join a weird cult or group. We got talked into joining the Good Sam Club, which I guess is like AAA for RV's?

(God, won't we be a pair? The teenage lesbian couple hanging around with all the retirees at the next club BBQ or something. Ha ha!)

Kate comes by, and Alyssa as well - Alyssa who still acts like she owes me a ton of favors after I used my future knowledge to warn her off from a bunch of random accidents. Even Warren pitches in, helping us get a hold of some cheapo GPS gear to fit into the RV.

Beyond all the paperwork and bureaucracy, the midnight oil gets burned overhauling the engine - it was pretty bad, but not a total loss. We did have to pull it out to fix it, and WOW did that suck. But it was still cheaper than buying a whole new one. But at least I now know a LOT more about how engines work and how to fix them than I did last month. Also: I have more grease than will can ever be removed, permanently trapped under my fingernails now. Gross!

I have to say though, it turned into a weird bonding experience between David and me, as well. I mean, we're not 'bros' or anything now, but for the first time, I think he's finally reached a state of okayness, or at least non-douchy acceptance about me and Chloe being a couple. It also kind of helped that I dropped out of Blackwell, and we didn't spend a bunch of time butting heads as student and security head.

Between all of us, and by that I mean, me, Chloe, Alyssa, Kate, Warren, and even Joyce - who is totally in her glory with the decorating - we pull some serious magic out of thin air. Our RV takes on a dark black base, all the better to contrast with all the crazy neon swirls and patterns. The best way to describe it is kind of like the tourbus of some Nineties rock band. Chloe and I take turns sitting back, looking it over, and pretending we're L7 or Sleater-Kinney, or even Hole, and that we're about to totally rock the nation, city by city.

The inside...I don't even know how to do it justice in words. Other than it's ours. Me and Chloes. A total fusion of our styles and tastes. Strings of Christmas lights, picture collages, various "Chloe-isms" painted in strategic spots. The worlds most amazing bedspreads and ceiling hangings. The disco ball, which I thought sounded tacky as shit at first, but just...really seems to work. With a million, billion tiny details laid down, we claim the RV as our own. With some accents and suggestions thrown in from friends and family. A labor of love in the truest sense of the word.

A couple days before we're scheduled to hit the road, Chloe and I are hanging out, late. Almost one in the morning. We had a celebratory party, to mark the occasion of finishing up all the prep work and packing. Everyone else has gone home by now, and it's just the two of us, slow dancing in our tiny, private world. And I realize: this is home. Ours. Hers and mine. No matter what happens outside these four walls, this will always be our first and best sanctum. Our private place. As special and sacred as her room became to us, this RV is even more so.

Looking down and giving a yawn, Chloe murmurs, "I guess we should be turning in, huh?"

I quirk my lips up into a wicked, lopsided smile, drift to the back where the bed lies, reach behind me and pull down the zipper in the back of the sundress I'm wearing. Shift my shoulders and let it fall off my body, pooling up into soft, peach waves around my feet.

"Bed sounds good. But I'm not all that tired yet."

Fortunately, neither was Chloe. It was a nice way to break the new place in.

* * *

It's the first of June, I think: the day we're heading off to see the world at large.

With a cheap bottle of sparkling cider in hand, I symbolically christen our awaiting chariot.

"I hereby dub thee...uh...The Princess Sparklefists Express!"

Chloe snorts, "You sure we can't go with Pus..."

"Yes! Very sure!" I say, raising my voice, and laying a couple fingers over her lips and mouth.

She smiles against them, gives the fingertips a kiss and then murmurs. "All right. Yeah, that's great. The Princess Sparklefists Express. The P.S.E. Pee, Ess...hey! You know, if you say it really fast, it totally sounds just like...OUCH!" I gently punch her in the side. Her good one, the one without the gunshot wound. I'm a harsh and demanding girlfriend, but I'm not a total bitch.

She headbutts me softly and murmurs, "Okay. Okay, I'll be good."

"Mmm. Don't be too good."

There's not much to say, other than a teary farewell. Hugs and email addresses and phone numbers are exchanged. Even though David gets a tiny bit choked, it's Joyce who turns into a hot mess.

"Oh God...I feel like...like both my daughters are leaving today." She kisses us both on the cheek. "Now you be sure to call. And I know you girls are adults now, and David and I can't go bailing you out, but seriously, if you get into trouble, you call me the instant..."

"Joyce. We'll be fine. I promise."

"Yeah, Mom. No sweat. For reals. Besides, I'm sure you're dying to turn my room into something else now."

Joyce gives her A Look, and then daubs at her wet eyes once more. "Well...just don't go forgetting Arcadia Bay. This is still your home. That'll never change.

She hugs us both at once, and Chloe and I look at each other over her shoulders. Like we're both thinking the same thing. Yeah, maybe Arcadia Bay was where we grew up. Where we met, and where we fell in love, and where we found each other again. But it's also kinda shitty, and there is still this creepy dread that hangs in the air; like a fading aura that just won't go away, an eternal mark of corruption left over, even though the Elder God is slain, and their bones lie rotting in the ground below.

(Man, that was macabre!)

But we need to get the fuck out of this place. Now.

We're gone finally, waving and smiling. Driving away, as everyone cheers us on.

"Oh shit FINALLY! I thought we'd never get out of there."

"Chloe, be nice." I lovingly admonish, as she starts to drive us out of town.

"I AM nice. You'll note that not once did I flip anyone the bird, or scream "FUCK YOU LATER, ASSHOLES!"." She wiggles in her seat. "I'm like a veritable picture of maturity and self restraint."

We glance at each other, for just a few seconds, then both turn out through our windows, and scream out,

"FUCK YOU LATER, ASSHOLES!" just as we're crossing through the county line.

The road ahead starts now. And I guess it ends in about fifteen months, in South Hadley, Massachusetts. But everything else, between those two points in time?

I have no idea. But damn, if it won't be awesome to find out!

* * *

 ** _A/N:_** _So welcome to Riotgrrls In Love, which is going to be a fluff anthology of Chloe and Max's time together once they leave Arcadia Bay. It is a direct sequel to The Ever-Ending Sacrifice, my AU setting in Life Is Strange, once which rapidly diverges after Episode 3 (mostly because as of the time I started this series, only the first three episodes of the game were out)._

 _This is a new thing for me. This is a series with no set schedule of end goal. I'll add to it as often or as little as I like, although I do already have at least three or four chapter ideas in the hopper, or halfway written out, and it will end...when it ends. The chapters may not even be presented in chronological order. But essentially, these are going to be slices of life in the Pricefield relationship, over the fifteen months our heroines spend on the road until Max goes to college in Western Massachusetts._

 _While I usually lime, I also reserve the right to go full lemon at any time. In fact, I definitely have a lemon piece coming up before too long, but I'll be sure to give fair warning for those chapters._

 _Also bear in mind that Max no longer has her powers. And I don't see them ever coming back. Again, this is more about romantic fluff than anything else, so in a sense, it stops being Life Is Strange, just a bit, and becomes more just The Chloe And Max Show._

 _Anyhow, I hope you enjoy it! Feel free to give me feedback, or even ideas of what you might like to see. It's not unknown for me to take audience ideas and work with them. That's how Old Soul and Pretty Good Year (some of my Mass Effect work) came about._

 _Have a great weekend!_


	2. In Xanadu

_**A/N:** Hey kids, I wish I didn't live in a country where I have to preface the chapter with the following...but I do...sooo..._

 _THE FOLLOWING STORY IS NOT INTENDED TO BE AN ENDORSEMENT OF ANY BEHAVIOR CONSIDERED ILLEGAL, AND SHOULD NOT BE READ AS SUCH. THESE CHARACTERS ARE FICTIONAL, PROPERTY OF DONTNOD ENTERTAINMENT, AND ANY SIMILARITIES TO ANY PERSONS LIVING OR DEAD IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL. FAIR USE RIGHTS INVOKED...blah blah blah._

 _There, see you in the commentary section at the bottom, after our story. :-)_ _  
_

* * *

"No - no words. No words to describe it. Poetry! They should have sent...a poet! So beautiful, so beautiful. I had no idea."

I groan softly, holding up a hand to my face, and shaking my head. This is...this is kind of embarrassing, actually. As I watch Chloe on her knees, gesticulating in ecstasy in front of a fancy looking building with the words "The Green Solution" emblazoned upon it. But I will admit that she's just so irresistibly adorable, as she Shatners her way through that line, faux-weeping all the while.

I snap a picture of this, because of course I do; this is too good a moment to pass up.

"Okay then, Jodie Foster. We've come to see the walls of your personal Mecca. So now that we have, can we go and get something to eat? I could seriously go for a sammie right about now." Chloe has been dragging me all over town, looking for 'just the right place' to finally commune with. Breakfast was an afterthought at best this morning.

She holds up one hand to her forehead, the other pointing palm up towards me, as she continues to overact, "Just...just have to give me a few seconds, babe. To drink up the full richness of this moment."

I murmur the first thing to immediately spring to my mind.

"In Xanadu, did Kubla Khan  
A stately pleasure-dome decree:  
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran  
Through caverns measureless to man  
Down to a sunless sea."

"Hey! A weed dependency is way less problematic than an opium addiction! If you're going to start slinging Coleridge around."

Gotta love that woman; she can still keep up with me on my poetry quotations.

And so it's come to this. I knew once we hit Colorado, Chloe was going to want to look at - or possibly break into and clean out - one of the recreational marijuana shops that the state's become so famous for. I've tried to burst her bubble several times on the matter, but she keeps refusing to have her dream denied.

I reach down for her arm, gently lifting her to her feet. Then butt her with my head, softly, and murmur, "We STILL can't go inside, doof. You can't until next March, and then I can't until September...2016! You're just tormenting us both. Well...you mostly."

Chloe reaches out, gripping my shoulders and playfully rocking me back and forth. "Babe, I got a plan..."

"Yes. That's been your rebuttal the entire time. Now that we're here, would you finally reveal your secret and glorious master strategy, dearest heart?"

I bat my eyelids at her, hoping that she'll finally either A) admit to me that I've got her dead to rights on calling out her bullshit or B) she has indeed come up with some idiotic, half-baked - Ha! I kill me - notion that I can immediately proceed to rip to shreds. Either method gets me and my stomach closer to lunchtime.

"Yeah. Of course. My genius idea is to walk in, give them our ID's, and then proceed with the time-honored tradition of exchanging currency for goods and services."

I wince, and peevishly stamp my foot. "Oh...God! Chloe, seriously, it's like you're not even trying anymore! You KNOW they're going to take one look at our driver's licenses and turn us right out..."

She holds up a single finger, laying it across my lips, smiling at me, with that cocked, perfected rogue grin.

"G'nna bite y'r finger off if th' next words out y'r mouth aren't 'Lets get lunch'" I mumble against it.

"Sure. Time for the big reveal! 'Cause you ARE correct, Buggy. Under normal circumstances, the great state of Colorado does not allow anyone under the age of twenty-one to buy recreational weed."

I start to softly bite down on her fingertip. "Om nom nom...", communicating the need for Chloe to explain things in a manner most expeditious.

"BUT! But...if you have a state medical card, you can go in if you're eighteen!"

I softly hold the fingertip between my teeth and and exclaim, "No."

"Wait, what do you mean 'no'? I haven't even finished explaining..."

"No! We aren't up and moving to Colorado and having you apply for a card."

"Good news! I don't have to! Because at the start of 2014, Colorado entered into a reciprocal agreement with a bunch of other medical marijuana states."

I release Chloe's finger from my toothsome prison and ponder exactly what she's managed to put together. "So...that means...oh shit! THAT'S why!"

Chloe just nods once. "Yea-huh."

"THAT'S WHY you went through all that pain and and suffering, not to mention the money spent, getting an Oregon card. Making ME get a card, too. Right before we left Arcadia Bay. I mean...damn."

You've never known personal shame until the love of your life convinces you to go and fake suffering a history of debilitating migraines just so you can qualify for an MMJ card. Still, I'm kind of surprised it worked. At the time it seemed like a lot of cost for little to no payoff. Especially when she told me she couldn't explain why 'until later.'

I shouldn't have gone along with it at all, but - sigh - YOU try saying no to a gorgeous skater punk with double-jointed fingers. Who knows how to use them. Oh God, there's this thing she does where...

*ahem*

Moving on.

"So we can just go in, show them our drivers license and our med cards, and they'll let us in and buy?"

She nods again, insufferably pleased with herself. "Yup yup yup! Same bullshit purchase restrictions as the other out-of-towners, can't buy more than a quarter ounce at a time but, shit, whatever, we're here for a week, right?!"

"Chloe, please don't spend all our money on weed, okay baby?" I ask in a soft, and only half-kidding tone of voice. I love that woman with all my heart, but she gets a little zealously single-minded on certain subjects. Which usually leaves it to me to assume the clever guise of a responsible legal adult.

"I promise. Seriously hon. I figure no more than half our money. A quarter, tops!" She starts holding that ridiculously beaming grin, bouncing like she's waiting for me to tell her it's okay to run into Disney World now.

"All right...all right. Let's do this. You're hair-brained scheme is...actually undeservedly clever, in a disturbingly sexy way. If only you could take all this foresight, talent and planning, and apply it to something more profitable."

"You mean like white collar crime?"

I groan, shrug and smirk, "Just promise me you'll only be defrauding billionaire hedge fund managers out of their ill gotten gains? And then take me to the Caribbean, where the sun and ocean will no doubt do wonders to soothe my savaged conscience. "

She takes my hand, and starts to lead me towards the door. "I'll stop after the first two-hundred and fifty million. Honest."

"Yeah well. Okay. Fine. I'll admit, I'm really kinda excited to see inside this place too."

* * *

So yeah, here's the thing of it, so you understand a little more of where we are in our relationship at present: I'm kinda into weed now, too. Admittedly, I only started because of Chloe. Well, that and I WAS curious to see what the big deal was. I'll never be the hardcore, daily wake-and-bake stoner queen par excellence that she is - and to be honest, some days I wish she'd smoke less - but I probably get blazed two or three times a week myself now. But not always crazy, stupid, couchlock-baked. Most times I'll get JUST enough to get me into a good, creative mindset. I've really come to appreciate the different strains of marijuana - or I guess we're supposed to call it cannabis now?

Seriously though, a good pure sativa strain? It can be an AMAZING thing. Skewing the mind, without screwing with my body. I'll always have my talent and my eye, and my artistic training, but if I get just stoned enough, it puts me in touch with something deep inside, sometimes. Brings up inspiration, lets me see connections, feel emotional depth that doesn't otherwise always come naturally to me. I remember wandering through Zion National Park after a smoking session with Chloe a couple weeks ago, and just gaping at all the beauty, so incredibly moved. Literally to tears. It was all I could do to remember to take pictures as I went. Later on, when I sobered up, I expected my photos to all be pointless - just shit, really. But no. It...it actually worked out, really well. And Chloe and I both found this awesome indica/sativa hybrid strain that...okay, look I'm just going to say that if we get the dose just right, sex becomes positively addictive. Just this incredible, spiritual, soul wracking, body tingling, multi-orgasmic...

Okay. I'm blushing now, and I'm going to stop.

Long and short: it's not something I would suggest doing day in, and day out, at least not for me - and someday I'll probably have to cut back, especially when college starts, but for now? It's like a nice glass of wine after dinner. It's something Chloe and I share, and we enjoy together. All the relationship docs say you should make an effort to share some of your lovers interests.

So I get stoned with her. And in return she...she...oh shit! We have ALL the same interests now! Damnit! Wait...wait..I'm sure I'm forgetting something...

"Hi there! Welcome to The Green Solution. Can I see your IDs please?"

The guy at the counter is cute enough, I suppose. Clean cut, well dressed. Definitely not the stoner archetype. And the lobby itself is nice: bright, white, clean. Pretentious artwork, chill soundtrack. If you like Gorillaz from around 2005. Which I will admit, I sorta do, a little bit.

The whole place looks far less like a seedy den of sin and debauchery, much more like the place you go to find out if botox and collagen injections are right for you.

"Allll right. Hmm." He's looking at our out-of-state licenses and our out-of-state medical cards six times over, and it's almost a good five minutes before we get them back, as he enters what's probably ever piece of information on them into a computer. Geesh, this is not at all like trying to scam of bottle of Fireball at the corner liquor store

"Everything looks in order. Sorry for the wait, we don't get a lot of these reciprocal agreement cards coming through here, believe it or not."

Chloe smiles winningly. "No problem. No problem at all. Gotta keep it all on the up and up, right?"

"No kidding. If you had any idea how much the M.E.D. still breathes down our...well. Anyhow. it'll probably be another five minutes before someone can meet with you. Why don't you girls have a seat."

I've already found a comfy chair, and look up from the latest copy of some local alt-paper called Westworld, as I watch Chloe do her Happy Dance!™. She's wiggling her bottom and poking her fingers up in the air and...oh God she's so cute when she's insufferably pleased.

She flops down into a chair next to me, leans back, clasps her hands behind her head and murmurs, "All right. You can begin with the adulation and fawning. Want me to give you some suggestions?"

"What? You mean like 'Oh Chloe, your devious cunning is only matched by your incredible ability to properly separate out colors and whites before doing the laundry?"

"Yeah! Hey...wait..."

"Or, 'You have no idea how wet it makes me when you have us commit borderline fraud in multiple states in order to get access to legal weed'?"

She pauses, her eyes widening, lips twitching at the corners. "R-reeeeally?"

I lean in and whisper, "Want a chance to find out?"

I can see the hamster in Chloe's brain, the one that keeps her mental wheels turning, completely freeze up, her jaw drop...

I love it when I break her mind.

I kiss her ear and say, "Drugs first, food next! Then tawdry hormonal hijinx after all that. And not a minute before!"

She grins, glancing downward, a blush still coloring her cheeks. "Yes, Ma'am."

A few minutes later, they call us in, and the actual shop area behind closed doors is just as fat-fancy as the lobby, if not more so. The wood paneling, for instance, is an extra nice touch.

We get assigned our own personal...I don't know what you would call her...cannabarista? Budtender? Legal Dealer? Personal Jesus is probably the term Chloe would go with. It's all slick, professional packaging, glass jars filled with weed, along with God knows how many weird sorts of pipes, oils, and...Groovy Bears? Seriously, they make gummy bears that get you high now?

That...is actually kind of cool.

But I still think allowing Chloe to come inside may have been a horrific tactical error.

She and the salesgirl, who DOES have dreadlocks and itchy looking hemp clothing named Misha - er, I mean that's HER name, not the name of her clothes - get along famously. It's one P.M. on a Tuesday, so she doesn't seem to mind Chloe chewing her ear off with a thousand questions. I just sort of tune out their conversation and busy myself with looking over some of the things in the display cabinet.

Ultimately, this culminates in my girlfriend drooling over this...okay, I'm trying to figure out how to describe it. I guess it's like a vaporizer, you know? One of those things that lets you smoke liquid nicotine, but you use hash oil instead. It's long and chunky, and looks like a sonic screwdriver;like, if the Doctor was a stoner or something.

(Doctor Who! That's what I can make Chloe watch with me in the future! She's been resistant for some damn reason, up to now.)

Chloe laughs with glee, holding it up. "Babe! Look! This is...totes amazing! I've been drugs-ing the wrong way for years now! I should take this up instead."

I shrug slightly and hmm. "Well, honestly? Sometimes you get a bit of this cough, and if vaping instead of smoking helps make that go away?"

We share a moment, just looking into each others eyes. She breaks the spell, by softly saying, "Yeah. Well. I'll...I'll get a small, cheap one. This things almost three-hundred."

I hold out a hand when Misha starts to pack it back up.

"I've got this."

Chloe blinks, and starts to protest, "No. Max, no! This is way too much...I can't let you..."

"You don't have a choice. Because unlike you, I still actually have some spending money saved up of my own. And I'm going to buy this for you. Consider it a super-early birthday gift. Or late."

She swallows, and looks sweetly pained. "Hon...oh, Max."

She tilts her head down and I lean in to kiss the tip of her nose.

"Just promise to use your powers only for good in the future, okay?"

She cups my cheek, and pulls me in for a full kiss. That turns into a nuzzle, and then another kiss, and then okay, Misha starts to politely clear her throat.

As I'm laying out the cash for Chloe's new best friend, she grabs it, waves it around with a flourish, then points it towards one of the other cashiers, calling out, "Expecto Pot-Stone'em!"

I cover my face with both my hands and groan.

"Holy shit. Promise me you'll NEVER do that again, Harry Pot-Head!"

She blows on it like it's a gun barrel, and then manages to twirl it around in her fingers in an impressive display of skill, before slipping it into the pocket of her flannel.

* * *

We finally get out of the shop with Chloe's new vape thingy, along with a quarter ounce each of...no. I don't want to say it. I find the names they give weed strains so embarrassing that I could just die, so I won't even bother, except to say that Chloe gets an indica, I get a sativa, and we both pick out a nice hybrid oil...

...and a package of Groovy Bears. And some sort of drops you put under your tongue. And pair of disposable pre-loaded vape pens. And...

*sigh* Let's just say we're going to be eating nothing but ramen noodles for the next two weeks once we get out of Denver. Still, we're young. We've got plenty of brain cells to kill before I have to settle down and start college. What other time in my life am I going to get a chance to have this kind of mindlessly self-indulgent fun?

I finally got my sandwich though, from this place named - I kid you not - The Cheba Hut, where I had a chicken ranch club called The White Widow. I know Chloe is all into this stoner culture stuff, but frankly, I'm getting a little bored of it for today. I must have made a grumbly remark about it at one point, because Chloe and I start talking about it.

"I know I get kind of crazy with this stuff, at least with regards to Colorado, babe, but look at it this way: Last year, a bunch of people got together and stood up to the bullshit that the government was feeding them for decades and said 'No. You're wrong, and we're taking our power back.' And they did. I mean...how often does THAT kind of thing happen? It's pretty mind blowing when you think about it. It's as much about freedom and self-determination as anything else."

I hate to say it, but she did have a pretty good point. One I hadn't actually thought about before. Not that I think of Chloe as a political person but...more than me, for sure.

We grabbed another sandwich for the road, and ended up in Washington Park, which apart from being absolutely huge and gorgeous was surprisingly quiet for the time of the day. So of course, Chloe couldn't wait to try out her new gadget, and I suppose I got talked into sampling along with her.

Still, it was nice. Just lying there on the grass with her, hand in hand, staring up at the blue sky, maybe a little over-baked...but at the same time, I had to admit that I felt a tremendous sense of peace, like the rest of the world had been put on pause, and it was just Chloe and me. Like I could just stretch the minutes and the hours out forever if I wanted to, reliving this moment over and over again and...

...oh shit!

"Max? Cutie? Why you holding out your hand in the air like that?"

"I...uhm. I...I'm trying to rewind time, I think? I got worried for a moment my power came back."

Chloe gives me a long, appraising look, and my cheeks blaze red, as I foolishly realize that I haven't been that lucky after all. Or cursed.

But she does lose it for a moment, dissolving into an absolute giggle fit.

"Oh! Oh...Oh God! Oh my God! You are SO fucking high right now."

I start to laugh, trying to hold my hand over her mouth, "Shit, dummy! Don't go yelling it to the world!" It was a good couple of minutes before we could manage to calm down, having somehow managed to end up tangled in each others arms. And then there might have been a bit of making out.

Or a lot of making out...

It's Chloe who actually breaks the kissing streak and murmurs "Hey Max?"

"Mmmm? Hey...where kisses go? Come back, kisses."

She combs her fingers through my hair and breathes out, "Babe, this has been a lot of fun today and everything...but lets make sure we don't spend the whole week mega-baked, okay?"

I blink, vaguely dazed and confused. Damnit, I really am a lightweight with this stuff.

"What? Oh...yeeeah. Yeah, that's...that's really great, sweetie."

"Because I know there's all this stuff you want to see, like the Rockies, and there's biking, and hiking..."

We both start breaking out into giggles again, because they rhyme.

"Just a shame if we missed it all, s'what I'm saying. "

I try my best not to laugh too hard, grinning lazily as I say, "Oh my God. Who are you, and what did you do with my punk rock girl?"

She pokes me in the sides and says playfully, "I. Can be. Responsible too. You know."

"Yeah. I see. I...I like it." I lean in and kiss her earlobe.

Chloe shivers and murmurs, "You...you're getting turned on by my being the responsible one?"

"Ohhh yeah..." I respond in a low, somewhat sultry voice, or what I think sultry is for me. "If we were back on Sparklefists, I would be seriously tearing off your shirt with my teeth right now."

I settle instead for a lot more cuddling and kissing and enjoying the company of the love of my life out in the open air. Then Chloe and I TOTALLY destroy that extra sandwich we bought, before finally calling it an afternoon.

The rest of the trip is as awesome as we could have hoped for. Colorado is like Oregon turned up a few more notches. The scenery is spectacular, the hiking is badass, and there is a LOT to do, like culturally and stuff, in Denver itself. I hate to say it, but even take away the legal weed, and it's still a pretty chill place to live.

I'm glad we got to see as much as the state and surrounding Denver area had to offer in a week; I'm happy to know I won't have to spend time worrying about whether Chloe is really thinking what to do with her life in the long term. I think.

Although wasting all of Sunday, lazing about in the RV, getting baked, making out and watching Doctor Who (yay!) was in my opinion, a pretty worthwhile way to spend the day as well.

Just as long as it's not all the time..we've only just started this crazy trip together.

* * *

 **A/N:** So I'm going to assume there are at least one or two law nerds in the audience getting ready to write "But Hugo! In the real world, Colorado doesn't have any reciprocating agreements with the other states for medical marijuana." Yup. And I doubt it's as easy to get a med card in Oregon as it is in California. But I figured a little creative legal fiction made things flow a lot smoother than something like...say...Chloe bribes a shop owner to let her and Max look around in the middle of the night. That seemed like something patently ridiculous. I've been over 21 for so long, I forget how limited life can be to some extent when you're still under that age.

Funny though, this started off as just a cute joke (Because Chloe in Colorado? Comedy gold!) but I wasn't quite expecting it to be as involved as it ended up being. I realize this sort of subject is probably not everyone's cup of tea, but I hope folks enjoyed it for the most part.


	3. Permanence

_**A/N:** I hope you kids like lemon-ade. I just squoze up a whole batch for this chapter. :D_

* * *

"What...?"

Chloe continues grinning up at me from the stool next to the dental-style chair I'm sprawled out on, looking even more lovestruck than her usual, intensely adorable default.

"I - I just...think this is awesome, is all. It's amazing. YOU'RE amazing."

I give her a long look, and then lean in, murmuring with a smile on my lips, "You're actually getting turned on by this, aren't you?"

She blushes, smiling back at me just as bright, "Well, you have to admit babe. This isn't your usual style. I just...I think it's kinda...hot. That you're branching out, I guess?" She then laughs, "Sorry, Chloe bad talk do, no think so good."

I kiss her between her eyes and whisper, "I'm glad my continuing downward spiral into decadence and corruption excites you so."

Not missing a beat, she cocks her head, and murmurs throatily, "Welcome to the Chloe Side. We've got cupcakes."

We're in Nevada, now. Reno, I think. Or just outside it. About a week or so past our time in Denver. We didn't stay long in Utah, more just passed through, but oh, man. You should see the pictures I have of some of the deserts and especially the salt flats. They are just..totes mind blowing, even if I do say so myself.

(Although if I had to hear Chloe make one more "What's up, Playa?" geology joke while we were driving through them, I was going to strangle her. Affectionately, and lovingly, but yes, strangle still.)

We've stopped here though, because the other night, I finally told Chloe that I wanted a tattoo, and after she picked herself up from the floor, she told me that there was this place she wanted to go to - I guess it's something of a small legend in the "ink community" - and it was just on the way. She insisted on paying. I told her no way in hell but...well. I guess the good part of it is that Joyce actually won a little bit of money in the state lottery not long after we left Arcadia Bay. It wasn't a huge, life changing sum, but it was easily five figures, so she gave Chloe a little bit of it. So Chloe's insisting on make this an early birthday gift.

It's really hard to say no to her sometimes...

We ended up at "SaGa", a small, clean shop run by this Icelandic guy in his fifties, by the name of Roy. No, I don't think Roy is a terribly Icelandic sounding name either, but it didn't seem polite to point that out to him. He's been an absolute sweetheart though, explaining everything about the process to me, setting my nerves at ease, and working with me to get the design I came up with turned into actual ink. On my actual arm.

With actual needles...

Chloe is hovering her fingertips over the stencil, which Roy laid down a minute ago with the thermal paper stuff and the ointment over it. I guess he's off mixing up the inks and getting them ready. Before then, she and Roy were chatting away like crazy like...God. I guess this is what I sound like when I'm talking with someone about photography? She's a tattoo geek, and this is what it sounds like when two of them talk.

Oh Chloe. Sorry for talking your ear off about light and shadow and composition and intent.

But she really admired his work, and he was happy enough to answer the ja-zillion questions she had for him.

I'm sure anyone who knew me would be asking - as I'm still asking myself - what it was that brought me to this moment. It wasn't like I just woke up one day and said, "Yeah. That. Let's go with that, totally. The tattoo thing." But I did realize a few weeks ago that I wanted something permanent in my life. A fixed point. I mean, don't get me wrong, I never doubt for a moment Chloe and I are forever, but...there's something about having your skin marked up that says: "This is never going away. You can't erase and rewind this time.'

(And yes, I know. They can go pew-pew-laserbeams! at tattoos these days and blast them off or something , but still...)

I have a whole vision thing. I'm going to get a sleeve tattoo, like Chloe has. I mean, not EXACTLY like hers. And I'm going to get it on my left arm, so that when we hold hands and walk in public, both tattooed arms are on display together. But I don't have the time or money to get it all done in one shot; I'm just starting with a picture of a blue morpho butterfly.

Because of course I am. How could I not? The moment that began it all. The number of times I became the butterfly, flapped my wings, changed things. Took them back, changed them again. The memories, all the ones I have, of times and events that don't exist anymore, are slowly fading away, dying quietly in the dark.

Chloe can't remember the time she and I fired her father's gun in the junkyard. Or how I saved Kate from jumping - because Kate never went up to the roof. Or the night we broke into the Principal's office and swam in the pool. When she first dared me to kiss her...and I did.

Or when I literally took a bullet for her, and she watched me bleed out on the bathroom floor.

She can't remember, because from her perspective, it never happened. I took it all back. Wiped it all away, like a sandcastle at high tide.

But I'll have this tattoo. I'll have it and look at it, and it will remind me, if just a tiny bit. That all those things really happened. Even I'm the only one left who bore witness.

That it wasn't just a dream.

"Oookeh. How about you let me sit down here...Chloe, you can slide around to the other side, if you like?" Roy's back, and ready with the gun. Guy's six foot six, and built like a modern Viking, but there's a gentleness about him. Kind of like he's someone's crazy uncle or grandpa. I honestly don't know if I'd been able to make it this far without his reassurances. I think the fact he isn't giving me crap or treating me like a poser is the big help.

With a cock-eyed smile, he leans in and explains, "Right, so you just hang on for the first minute or two, ya?. 'Cause it's gonna hurt, but not so bad. You'll get used to it. Not like we're doing the back of your neck or on your sternum. Fokk! I'd tell you to go rethink it, girl, if you asked me for that, first time."

I close my eyes and grit my teeth, and murmur out, "This...this'll be easy. Got shot point blank once, so this'll hella tickle." I say this more to remind myself than anything else, but still he chuckles. I don't see any reason to dissuade him from the notion that I'm just telling a bad joke.

And yeah, the experience is exactly what was promised: totally like getting stuck with a little needle, at high speed, hundreds of times over. And over.

Well shit, I definitely won't forget this day.

He's good though. Deft. He takes his time, but he doesn't waste time, doesn't trace the lines unless he's sure of them. Artistry I can understand. Focus on that, try to be more impressed with his level of skill than with the amount of discomfort I'm currently experiencing.

A little while later, and it's finished. At least the outline is. Now comes time for coloring in the various shades of blue and white, along with the fine details. Roy claps me on the shoulder - the other one, thank God - smiles down. "Good! Good...didn't blubber, not like that fraternity boy who came in last week, oh shit, you'd think I was gelding him!" He chuckles loudly and rises up, partly to give me a little break, I guess.

Chloe chases after him as he heads over towards his desk, "Hey! Hey Roy...uh...so about what I was asking before..."

I lay back and tune out whatever it is the two of them are talking about. Close my eyes and relax. I kind of wish I took Chloe up on her suggestion to get baked first before we came here, but I really needed to be clear-headed for this. I didn't want anything to muddle up my memory of this day. I want to remember the scent in the air, sterile and antiseptic. The feel of the cheap vinyl underneath me, the weird-as-fuck Nordic death metal band playing in the background. Although I wish I could get the taste of lunch out of my mouth, man...never have Chinese food in Nevada, that's for damn sure. At least outside of Las Vegas, I suppose?

I crack open an eye and peek over; Roy and Chloe are still holding some sort of animated discussion. I can't make out what they're saying, but...oh God. I hope she isn't pestering the hell out of the poor guy too badly. I don't want him peeved at us, when he has to go back to filling in my tat.

That I now take the time to look down at.

Oh...oh wow. I did it.

I actually did it!

It's just an outline, but it's gorgeous, and it's mine. It's on me, forever. And I find that comforting as hell, like an anchor. Something that will keep me solidly planted in this timeline...because honestly? Things are going fantastic. There are still days where I wake up worried I'm going to lose it all. That Il be back almost a year ago, in Arcadia Bay. Another Max. Another life.

But maybe not anymore.

Roy finally returns, giving an amused chuckle, and says, "Right. So just lie back. Feel free to close your eyes and rest, if you want."

Chloe's gives a short, clipped laugh for some reason. I don't think anything about it. I just bite down on my bottom lip and bear down for the next minute again, taking Roy's advice. Only now it takes a bit longer to 'get used' to it, what with the color needing to be spread out, the same patch of skin getting poked repeatedly. I once read something about how needles poking the skin can make nerves more sensitive for a while, and I totally believe it. But after a while, it's not so much painful as...intense sensation. Stimulating. I'm not saying I'm exactly getting off on pain, like that I'm a masochist or anything, but I can suddenly appreciate HOW pain can feel...well...if not good, then definitely interesting. Arousing in it's own way.

That's probably why I don't immediately notice that the fingers wrapped around my arm, right at the elbow, are long. Slender...not rough and muscled and..

What that?!

Fortunately, Chloe anticipates what's coming, turning off the tattoo gun and holding it away from my skin as she seems me jerk in my chair, my eyes flying open. Then she gives me the biggest shit-eating grin, and says, "Relax babe. I'm almost halfway done with the main fill."

I look back at her, and then at Roy, who is, to his credit at least, sitting right next to her, watching like a hawk, like he's ready to jump in, just in case.

"Chloe? What? Huh?!" I look quizzically at them both.

"Ohhh...I...kind of...wanted to give you a surprise. I'd been reading up on this, and I've seen it done a billion times. Had it done to me a lot so...I kinda convinced Roy to give me a shot. Told him I'd give him a tip equal to the fee if he let me!"

I give Roy my best 'Are you absolutely shitting me?' look. This CAN'T be legal. I mean, I love Chloe, and I know she'd never hurt me, but sometimes she gets a little too impulsive..and...and...

He barks out a gravelly guffaw, "AND had you sign a waiver, too! Don't go thinking that I let just anyone do this though." He glances over to me, pats my leg reassuringly, "But your girlfriend here, she maybe actually knows her stuff, ya? I wasn't older than her, the first time someone let me try it out like this, so I figure, hey, what the hell? Kids are the future, or whatever the hell that damn song says."

He pauses to admire Chloe's work so far, nodding in approval. "Hmmm. Not bad. Especially for a first time. You an illustrator? Got a steady hand for it. Well, you finish up with the blue parts, then I'll take over for the fine detail, ya?"

Chloe nods once, "That was the deal." She then looks up to me, and...

...she could just light up the room with her smile right now. I've never seen her so happy. She then gets back to work without another word, slowly giving color and life to my tattoo.

I just sit there, absolutely transfixed while I watch, the pigment blooming out across my skin, as she takes her time, so terribly careful. She might be impulsive and headstrong and crazy a lot of the time, but she's doing everything she can to make sure she isn't hurting me, or messing this up. Absolutely focused, completely consumed with her work.

It's another minute or so, before it finally hits me, before I whisper out to her.

"You're marking me."

"I am..." she agrees, not taking her eyes off what she's doing.

"Chloe...this...this is really hot."

And it is. There is something so intensely, erotically intimate about it all. She's claiming me. Like she's signing her name across my heart. She's taking this piece that is supposed to be such a close, almost secret symbol of this unbelievable time of my life, the thing that brought us together in the end, and adding her own part to it.

I whimper the whole rest of the time she's coloring it in - not in a bad way, not at all. But I AM surprised I manage to hold out until she's finally done, before I reach out, tangle my fingers in her hair, and pull her close, mouth latching onto her own. I kiss her for a good ten seconds, leaving her flushed and breathless in my wake.

"Thank you." I mouth out to her, as she rises up in a daze. Roy doesn't even blink, just takes the gun from her, takes her place, and goes to make sure that the color layers blend evenly, working on the white dots around the edges of the wings. I barely even notice, too busy holding Chloe's hand and grinning goofily at her.

"Best early birthday present ever." I giggle softly to her.

She gives me a knowing look and says, rubbing the back of her neck. "Think that's great? Just wait until September."

Damnit. Now I'm going to be dying of curiosity for at least the next month and a half.

* * *

A few days later, Chloe is waking me up in bed with gentle little kisses on my arm.

"Nuuuu..." she groan sleepily into my pillow. "No get germies in mah wooound." Which is, you know, exactly what a tattoo is for the first few days. But it's healing nicely, and we've been really good about aftercare.

"Can't help it! I gotta revel in my work. And my sexy canvas." She does make sure the next flurry of kisses make it to my lips and face.

We cuddle up close and I glance over at it. "It does look incredible, does it?"

"Oh yeah. And it'll keep looking incredible, at least until it starts to peel. Don't freak when that happens, okay? It's totally normal. Just think of it like shedding..."

"That's really fitting, you know? Like coming out of a cocoon. Emerging from a chrysalis."

"Geeze, laying it on heavy with the butterfly symbolism, aren't you?"

"Shut uuuup. I love it. I love that you helped make it. And I love you." We kiss again, and then I mutter against her lips. "I just wish I could see the whole thing. Have it done. Like now."

"I...think I know how to make that happen. I mean, not permanently, but enough so that you'd get a nice idea about the end result."

"Uhhh...no markers, right?"

She laughs and crawls out of bed. "Shit, no. Trust me. You trusted me on the tattoo..."

"I didn't KNOW you were going to do that!"

"Right. That's because forgiveness is ALWAYS easier to get than permission. But you didn't stop me."

"Mmmmm...no I. Did. Not."

I rise up and pad along after her, into the cramped living quarters-slash-kitchen in the RV. Just enough time to throw a cereal bar in my face, and she brings out a fancy looking henna kit that I didn't even know she had. I wonder where the hell she was hiding it, it's not like there's a lot of space to put things, here on the Princess Sparklefists Express.

I lay my left arm out on the table, and over the next hour or two, she traces out the rest of the design: vines growing out, twisting over my arm and ending at my wrist. Little divergent paths, on which sit a multitude of butterflies, becoming smaller and smaller as they drift away from the main one, representing the twisted, branching paths I had to navigate when I was still Max Caulfield, Mistress of Space And/Or Time. The idea is to eventually make the butterflies different colors of the rainbow.

It's spellbinding, watching her work. Again, that same sort of intimacy, the feeling of being under her complete control. The same, yet different. A promise of something spectacular, but still amazing in and of itself. She's...she's so good at this. The drawing, I mean. Stupid me, I get so wrapped up in my own art, I forget Chloe's got her own gift for illustration. That's why she was at Blackwell.

"So babe? What do you think?". She's trying to play it all casual, but I can see in her eyes, she's so desperate for me to be happy with it.

I rise up to my feet, staring at it. Stretching out my arm and greedily absorbing each detail with my eyes. I feel...different. Powerful. More confident. Like I've actually fully taken possession of my own body for the first time in my life. Look at me, world. Look at Max Caulfield. Look at what my super-awesome way-cooler-than-yours girlfriend did!

"I think it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, Chloe.". My voice is barely above a reverent whisper. A swallow and turn to her, smiling to the point where my face starts to ache.

She stands up, joining me, leaning in and nuzzling at my ear, shoulder and neck. "You're my Goddess, Max. My angel, my Florence Nightingale. I just...wanted something that would show it. 'Cause you know, I suck with words a lot of the time."

"Yeah, you do." I hiss out, playfully, gripping the back of her head, and pulling her gently back, nibbling at her neck, ear and mouth.

Another few moments, and we're tightly embracing, her breasts slowly rubbing up against my own, nails scratching and tracing patterns over the skin of my back as our kisses became more frenetic, ferocious. I've kissed my girl a hundred thousand times by now, and I never, ever get tired of it. I think that's how I know this is the real deal. That this is what was meant to be. People would tell us, "Oh, you're both so young, you can't say forever." but yeah.

I can. I really can.

In short order, she's gotten my bra off, hands cupping and caressing my chest. Tweaking and twisting my nipples, until they're almost painfully hard, and I'm begging her not to stop. Still cupping my breasts, she manages to guide my backwards towards the bed, until I slowly sprawl out backwards onto it, smiling sleepily in anticipation of what's to come.

Chloe kneels down at the foot of the bed, deftly snagging the sides of my panties, and slipping them down and then off. Nuzzling at my leg, up towards my inner thighs, kissing the back of my knee. I stretch out, luxuriating in the feel of her lips, her hair brushing across my skin, making me bite my knuckle from occasional pleasure overload.

"Chloe! Oh God...Chloe...I want...I want YOU to finish up the tattoo sleeve. Don't...care how you do it. Even if we have to come back, and go to Roy's in a few months, make him let you use his stuff. Then...then maybe you can do something...something on my back...!"

I'm panting hard now, envisioning Chloe making her mark over every inch of my skin, as her tongue tip traces lazy circles over my public mound. She knows how to read me, when I'm in the mood to be teased and draw foreplay out. And when I need her NOW. This is definitely a NOW moment, her mouth making it's way between my legs, lips encircling the stiff bud of my clit.

And for the record? Chloe is just...well, I'll never know if I'm gay or maybe just bi, but she has absolutely ruined me for anyone else in bed. She admitted, before we got too far into our relationship, that she and Rachel Amber had been intimate. Her first.

Too bad I never got a chance to thank her, because OH DAMN did she teach my Chloe well.

My legs snake over her shoulders, trapping her head between my thighs, my fingers reaching down to possessively tangle through her hair. I hadn't realized until this moment how much watching her work was winding me up, exciting me. I don't last long under her hungry assault, arching up against her, crying out loudly, writhing and clawing at her shoulders as I come.

Thank God this RV park we're in right now is pretty secluded; I can be kind of a screamer, especially at times like this.

I takes me a good few minutes to recover, as Chloe disengages herself, crawling her way slowly upwards, kissing away the tears of joy that have wrung themselves from my eyes. Kisses my mouth, and I taste myself on her lips. That's all it takes to rev me up for seconds, roll her down onto the bed, fully intent on paying her back. With interest.

Later, much later, we're tangled up in the sheets and each other. I'm staring out at the henna drawings on my arm, surprised that it's barely smudged, after all that exertion.

"Wow. Good stuff." I whisper out. Then I turn to Chloe. "Sweetie? I think maybe you found your calling."

She reaches over towards the bedside table, grabbing her vaporizer and taking a slow, languid inhale, before offering it to me.

"What, having mind blowing sex with you? Yeah, I'm awesome. Really I'm awesome!" She puffs out a few white, fluffy clouds as she speaks, and smiles wickedly. "But I don't think that puts food on the table unless we suddenly start working for Suicide Girls."

I take my own, much smaller draw, and playfully blow it out in Chloe's face. "Dummy. I mean...this." I point to the design on my arm. "Serious, Chloe. You need to do body art. Tattooing. I mean, sheesh. You looked so happy, when you were inking me up."

Chloe blinks, uncertain, "Well..yeeeeah. Of course I was. I was inking you up..."

I shake my head, taking one last sip off the vape before handing it back. "Mmm-nnn. It was more than just that. It was like watching you in your element. Doing what you were always meant to do. Like...like when..."

She beats me to the punch, "Like when you're capturing the perfect shot with your camera? Hmmm." She narrows her eyes, pondering thoughtfully. "I don't know. Maybe...maybe you're on to something?" She smacks her lips and sits up in our bed, musing. "Tattoos. Making designs. Like...my own stuff. Yeah...yeah. And people would pay me to put it on them, because it's amazeballs. I could be Chloe the Artiste! The gal who paints on peoples bodies." She nodded, smile growing ever wider on her lips. "'Cause you heard Roy, I mean, I know you don't know much about the guy, but believe me when I say that on the West Coast at least, he's like Van Gogh in the tattoo scene. So damn cool. And he even gave me his personal email address!"

"Sooo...I think he's trying to tell you something!" I lean in, kissing her cheek firmly.

She nods with a languid slowness, "Yeah. That...that would be really nice. To have a...thing. That I do with my life. That's more than just paying the bills, but it could still HELP pay the bills. I mean, fuck, why not? I'm young. I should give it a shot! What's the worse that could happen, other than crippling embarrassment, failure, and nagging self-doubt? But shit, I think I'll definitely regret it if I don't at least try."

It really makes me happy to hear Chloe talking about a direction in her life. As much as the aimless, sexy rogue routine works for me, this is about ten thousand times better, as far as I'm concerned. Angry, rebel-without-a-cause-Chloe is as much a trapping of the past as shy, mousy, overly-eager to please Maxine Caulfield.

She rises up, walking over and grabbing a sketch pad and her tin of cray-pas from one of the cabinets. Then flops down in the tiny chair across from the bed and smiles from me.

"So. Miss-My-Muse. You wanna be my first model? Maybe you strike a sexy pose for La Artiste?"

Laughing, I splay myself over the bed dramatically. "Right. So I'm Rose to your Jack now?"

She immediately gets to work, falling into that deep concentration I saw her exhibit when she was inking me up.

"Mmmm. That sounds good. Except without the sinking and death and overwrought tragedy. Also, if you feel the urge start producing priceless diamond necklaces? Just go with it."

So I just lay out, and for the next hour or two, Chloe sketches me, in various poses. It's probably the best way to spend the day with her, as far as I'm concerned. And I know, deep in my heart of hearts it won't always be like this, free, easy and casual. I'll start school, and if Chloe is serious about this new career choice of hers, she'll probably have to work hard and pay her dues.

I realize none of this is permanent. Life itself isn't permanent, but as I look down at the blue butterfly on my arm, I know it's going to be impossible to forget how wonderful these days together have been.

* * *

 _A/N:_ So people who know me know I'm pretty nervous as hell with doing lemons and tend to rush a bit when I write those kind of scenes. I think it's hard to write something like that, knowing it will be read by god knows how many strangers. Still, this is fluffy romance, and this is going to come up again, so hopefully I get more comfortable doing it as time goes on. Have a good rest of the week!


	4. Viva Las Vegas

"Babe...I said I was sorry. Like...twice, even." Chloe crosses her arms and looks away, grumbling a bit louder than intended, "Still wondering why I'm apologizing for winning a hella ton of money though..."

I stare down at the large pile of casino chips, each one stamped with the chintzy Luxor pyramid logo. In beguiling blacks, purples, and pinks, it's both horrifying and tantalizing all at once. I can't help but see it as some sort of honeyed trap, too sweet to resist, but too good to be true. I'm curled up in a loose ball on the bed right now, absolutely torn; half of me just wanting to just yell at Chloe for being so stupid and foolish, the other just about ready to pounce on her, hiss in her ear how incredibly hot she makes me when she gets away with shit like this.

Christ, wasn't I just telling her in Denver and Reno how much I was enjoying the new, more responsible Chloe Price? I don't know who I'm more upset with right now: her, or me.

"I know." I acknowledge, in a low, almost flat monotone. I labor to take a long, slow, deep and calming breath. "It's just...I can't believe that you went and did...it was such a huge risk, you know, and it could have just...like what would have happened if you lost, and then...ach!" I start to tug in my hair as frustration builds up inside me like steam pressure.

Chloe and I spent the better part of two weeks in Reno, where she underwent this initial apprenticeship under Roy. Turns out there's surprisingly little formal education for this sort of thing, let alone regulation. It's mostly the shops that have to be licensed, although some artists need certification in blood-borne diseases and stuff. like that. Depends on the state. But it was also cool in that he let Chloe continue working on my sleeve, which is now down to my elbow and coming along great!

So now we're passing through Vegas...it was just supposed to be for a weekend! I didn't think I had to point out to Chloe that her legal trickery wouldn't work with the casinos the way it did in the weed shops in Colorado. We were just going to have some nice meals, maybe try to get into a club...

"Okay, so I guess to start, I'm still kinda royal pissed you just left me behind after we got out of the show. You know, the high-class naked-time revue, or whatever it's supposed to be."

I do kind of crack a smile at this, despite myself. Apparently there was some major ticket brokers conference in town, which meant that all kinds of freebies were just randomly floating around. Getting in to see the Blue Man Group was a major score, but when Chloe got her hands on some free passes to some girly show at the Luxor...

Chloe smiles back, sheepishly, and drifts towards me, "Yeah, and can I say that was stupid rad , and that you're a way cool girlfriend for going with?"

I roll my eyes a little and look away. I know beyond the shadow of a doubt that Chloe's heart belongs to me. Still, she has an..appreciative eye. I get that. And despite the tacky glam of the show itself, some of the women really were...I mean, they were REALLY hot. Like I'm starting to think I'm more than just into Chloe, as far as other women go. Maybe.

"Yeah, the show was amusing if nothing else. Still mad about getting out of the bathroom, and how you're not there waiting. And then I have to wander around the whole casino until I find you half an hour later at the roulette table. Seriously, what the hell?"

Her eyes light up again, as she bounces off the bed excitedly, "Okay, okay! Yeah, maybe I got a little impulsive. But can you blame me? Because O-M-G, did you not notice how they DIDN'T card us for the show? And that no one cards you to get into the casino? It's like as long as you're not an absolute brain-dead moron, no one fucking cares! It was just...I was only going to put down a few bucks, and then walk away. I mean...ha ha...I didn't expect to win! Or keep winning."

Chewing down on my bottom lip, I cover up my eyes with the palm of my hand and groan out, trying to keep an even tone, "And what happened if you lost, Chloe? You put down five hundred bucks of your money..."

"Uh, yeah...of MY money, Max. I got it from Joyce, it was mine to lose."

I narrow my eyes, looking up at her, and hiss, "Too big a fucking risk. What if you just lost it on the first spin?"

She leans in, to meet my gaze, her eyes mirroring mine almost perfectly. "Then I guess I would have felt super-ridiq and walked away to go back and find you."

In a smaller voice, I ask, "What if you couldn't just walk away. What if you decided to go chasing after that, and then five hundred turns into five thousand, and then more, and more, and..."

Suddenly I'm crying. Bawling, even. Inside, the dam bursts, and I lose all control. It happens so fast, I don't even have time to be surprised.

"I can't...I can't save you anymore, Chloe!" My voice is thick with emotion, wet as the tears running down my face. "I don't have my powers anymore! I'm so scared about something happening to you. It was easy not to worry when i could just rewind it all, take it back, make it go away. But I can't and I just...I don't know what I would do, Chloe!" I spring up slowly and cling to her, burrying my face in her neck, and give a few hard, body-wracking sobs. "I love you so much. I don't know what I would do if something bad happened to you, if I lost you. Sometimes I just still feel so...so powerless!"

Chloe sits down, pulling me into her lap as she does. Kisses away each and every tear away, shhhes me and my fears away as best as she can. More than my lover, she is, in this moment, my best and most precious friend.

"Max...sweetie. Oh God..." she almost crushes the breath out of me as she squeezes, but I draw such comfort from the pressure. "Seriously had no idea you still felt like this."

I sniffle loudly, grateful when she hands me some tissues. Try to talk, and it takes a few attempts, clearing my throat hard, before it loosens up enough to allow me to do so, "Yeah. Yeah, I guess...I didn't either. Not until this moment. You know, I wanted to put it all behind me, right? The powers...I mean, people aren't meant to live like that, you know? Not for the long haul. And you just had this crazy, fucked up way of getting into trouble..."

She bows her head and makes a quite, strained groan, "Shiiiiit. I'm...such a fucking ditz. I forgot the stories you told me, you know? About shooting myself in the junkyard. The train. I mean, shit, no wonder you're...I mean. No wonder it drives you crazy! Worrying about me when I go off all cray-cray." She beats her forehead a few times with the flat of her palm. "Stupid...stupid..."

I grab her wrist, and shake my head. "No...no it's...this is on me, Chloe. I keep forgetting that you - the woman here with me now - none of that happened to her. You just have my word, and the pictures to go on. I thought I was past it, Chloe. I thought it was all over and done with, but I guess an experience like that doesn't just leave you untouched." I bow my head and let out a tiny, "I'm sorry."

"No. *I'M* sorry. You're right. I need to start growing up. Getting my act together. I mean, I'm starting right? I'm on a good roll. But I should stop being so..."

I shake my head emphatically and cup her face. "No! Please...don't. I mean, yeah, you're figuring out what you wanna do in life now, and that's all hot and awesome and everything, but don't stop being you, Chloe. Not for my sake. You drive me crazy, but it's also what I love the most about you. How fearless you are. You know you can't take anything back, but you don't care. I just...I need more of that, you know? I need to work on getting over this hang up of mine, the control I had. Everything was so safe and secure, and nothing could hurt me, or us. That's how it felt for a while. I just...didn't realize it still haunts me, even a little. So don't go changing or turn into Ms. Super-Play-It-Safe all the time, for me. It would kill me to see you make yourself miserable just for my sake. I guess we just, we need to meet in the middle somehow, you know?"

"I know...I definitely know, Buggy. Believe me, all the times I wish I was more like you: calm. Cool. In control. You take the time to figure out the angles, I mean DAMN. I was just about to take thirty grand in chips and cash out like a dumb bitch, but YOU are seriously scary with Google and a smart phone. Doing the research. Saved me from falling into the trap of them wanting to see ID and Social Security for trying to cash out such a big amount all at once.

I pull my face back, glance over to my punk rock girl, and say, in a kittenish tone of voice, "I think I have a plan on how we can cash it out without problems."

Chloe gives a lilting laugh - God her laugh is the best! - and kisses me, quick but hard. "'Course you do, babe. It's your secret superpower now. You know, other than the actual superpower you used to have."

My voice strengthens. I calm. Having finally let it all out, this little micro-freakout, after all these weeks, I feel worlds better. "It's a little risky. We'll have to stay around Vegas for a week or so, I figure."

"Oooooh nooo! The worst!" Chloe gasps in mock-horror. Then pauses. Brushes her thumb against my lips and whispers. "Max...we don't need to. We can just drive away, with a pile of chips we can't cash in. At least not for eight months. Then I can come back, when I turn twenty-one, and cash it all in at once. Nice and legit. That's the best plan. Safest. I don't mind. What's eight months compared to making you happy, Max." She takes my hands, cupping them in hers, and covers them in kisses, tiny little licks of devotion. "There isn't anything I would do for you. I love you, so much."

I can't believe what I'm about to say, .but I think I need to. I need to do this. I have to show myself that we can take a chance and even if it goes bad, it won't be the end of the world. I've already made so much progress over the last year...this is just the next challenge, right?

"You know what, baby?" I whisper. "There's thirty fucking thousand dollars in chips on the bed. All house money. We each take half, and we each cash out twenty-five hundred a day, every day or two? I mean, that's just peanuts to them, right? And so what if they catch us halfway through, we just tell them we forgot our drivers licenses, and run out of the casino, come back later. Let's do this...let's get crazy, just a little, here in Vegas?"

Chloe blinks, looking over at me, her mouth hanging down just a bit. "Whoa...wait. Seriously? Okay, Max, you don't need to..."

I stop her with a kiss, "Yeah. I do. I really do. This time."

Chloe swallows hard, still disbelieving. "Really? All...all right then. Yeah...let's get crazy! So you wanna start by making out on top a pile of casino chips?"

I burst out laughing; it takes me a good ten seconds to stop before I glance up at her, and with a minxish grin on my lips tell her, "Nah. I got something better in mind."

* * *

"Holy...holy fuck, Max! I think you went temporarily insane! Don't get me wrong, I love it, but...ha ha! I can't remember what I was going to say. I think you sexed it out of me! I just gotta say though, as hot as movies make the whole idea look? Not a damn CANDLE to the amazeballs reality!"

Two days later, Chloe and I are lying in bed together, in a classy suite at the Venetian, on a crazy huge pile of twenties, fifties and hundreds, about five grand worth, I think.

"Way the fuck better than my idea!" she admits, after we manage to successfully cash out the first seven and a half thousand. We've been trying to stagger it at different times of the day, usually the busy times at night when they are pressed for time. So far, so good. No one has even blinked.

Still doesn't lessen my excitement any further. Wild, yet safe. That's about the best I can describe what we're doing. But Chloe just goes crazy at my idea of sex in a fancy suite on a pile of cash, and I do too. I mean, we don't just go and make love, all sweet and romantic, no. It literally starts with a cash fight, throwing great big handfuls of bills at each other, laughing like we're mental, until the bed is just strewn with them, and then I have her just...thrown me down hard, and royally fuck me.

I mean we're - oh God, I am blushing so hard at the thought NOW, but we got toys involved and everything, you know? And I just hope no one was looking up at us on the twenty-third floor when she took me against the window.

Now we are both glistening with sweat, and the bills are sticking to skin; we're still panting, catching our breath; the aftermath is...well...not as sexy as events leading up to this moment, but still: so totally worth it.

I snuggle up close against her, into the crook of her arm, and murmur, "You know it won't always been rad-as-fuck cash fights and money-themed sexytimes, right?"

"There's my babydoll, bringing down the mood."

I giggle drunkenly and mmmmm, "Yeah. Just promise me something?"

"After the past three hours? Hell, Imma go off and kill in your name right now if you asked." She pauses, then adds, "But it's not, right? Because you know, pillow talk is one thing..."

I smirk and gently swat at her tummy with a handful of bills. "No! Dummy. Just...you know how I'm here to keep you from going too off the rails? Promise me you'll keep me from being too safe. That you'll remind me that I'm nineteen still, even though sometimes I feel - and act - like I'm thirty-eight.

She reaches over, casually groping one of my breasts, "Oh don't worry. You ABSOLUTELY feel nineteen right now."

I jump onto her, pinning her down and laughing. "Smartass!" Then my eyes light up. "Oh! Hey, you know, I forgot to mention it to you, what with all the freaking out, and then the crazy money and sex, but...too bad for you."

"Wait. What? What's that mean?"

"It means that when I got out of the bathroom the other night, I got propositioned by one of the girls from that show. She was classy about it, in her own way."

Chloe gives me an expression that says she's calling bullshit.

"Reallly?"

"Oh yeah." I nod emphatically. "The red head. The one you couldn't stop drooling over. With the..." I hold my hands under my chest, "...proportional developments."

She snorts with bemusement, and then narrows her eyes. "No, seriously, I know you're shitting me."

"Swear to Dog, she was totally coming on to me. I told her that I had a girlfriend already. So she said, 'That's okay. I do too. Let's get together, sometime.' Then she hands me a playing card with a room number written on it."

Chloe squeaks - she literally says the word 'squeak!' - then asks...no, more begs-slash-pleads, "Please, please PLEASE tell me we can do this!" After a few seconds pause, she continues, "I mean..oh. Sorry. Shit. Did I just totally come off as way too eager...? I mean. Uh. Yeah. Whatever. Foursome might be...neat. I mean, only if you reallllllly wanna."

I scoop up a couple handfuls of bills and drizzle them over her face, as I shimmy slowly, straddling her hips, "Toooo bad." I call out in a sing-song voice. "I lost the card somewhere trying to find you in the casino. If only you had stuck around, like you should have from the start."

"Fuck! Now I know you're hella lying, Caulfield!" she booms out, with the biggest grin on her face. She pivots, reversing our positions and starts to tickle me mercilessly.

"Fess up!"

"Fuck you, no way! It totes happened and was awesome!"

I give as good as I get though, and before too long, we're rolling around. Until we fall off the bed...

...landing with a loud thump, and we're just lying on the floor, laughing and crying, with bills stuck to our skin.

Eventually, I look up at her, and tell her the three words I know she longs to hear.

"So. Room service?"

"Fuck yeah, I want room service!" She all but bounces on me. "But...ah...lets keep the tab under a grand, right? We gotta think about the future."

"Oh baby, nothing makes me hotter than when you exercise fiduciary restraint."

"What? Jesus, Max. You're such a huge nerd sometimes."

I smirk hungrily, "You love it! Why else did you give me that word-a-day calendar for Christmas?"

"I do. I totally do. Your nerdy ways are my kryptonite, babe."

Room service came later. You see, there was this giant jacuzzi tub in the bathroom, and...well seriously, we had to check that out first, right?

* * *

In the end, we get away with it. We get all thirty grand cashed out in the span of a week and a half, although the last night, we started getting followed around by someone in a suit. Chloe thinks it was just my paranoia. Maybe she's right. Still, I'm glad we didn't push our luck too far.

I know that everything that happened to me during the "Never-Time" is going to be with me, probably forever. Even as the memories fade, the experiences leave their mark. I'm just really glad to be so blessed to have a girlfriend who understands and is always going to love me, as I try to figure this shit out. I mean, it's not like I can go talk to a therapist about it. Gotta figure it out on my own.

Well...no. Not alone.

It's late at night when we finally leave Las Vegas. Our eyes fall on one of those quicky-wed chapels. The kind of places where you can drive through and have Elvis marry you. Chloe and I, we just smile at each other. I reach over, take her hand, kiss it and then hold on to it for the better part of an hour.

We're not in a rush, but we both know it's coming. Life's Biggest Gamble, as it were. But there's no one else I'd rather take that risk with, than the girl holding my hand and driving us out into the dark.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ For some reason, I'm not so thrilled how this one came out. I almost didn't do it at all, but it read better the next day during editing. Admittedly, I have trouble letting go of certain "darling" ideas. Oh well, that's what the fluff series is for, to get that kind of stuff out of my system. On a related note, I might have to turn the cash pile sex scene into it's own one-shot someday.

"proportional developments" almost became "epic warhammers of badass vengeance" due to an well-endowed friend of mine.

Anyhow, have a great weekend!

P.S. OOOOOH Holy crap I am such a moron! I can't believe I originally published this up without saying: WAA HOO! Go SCOTUS! Same sex marriage, now law of the land! (backflips!)

Of course, we've had it here in Massachusetts for a decade, so of course I forgot ;-) But seriously. *pumping fists in the air* Yay!


	5. A Decent Proposal

"Huh. Oookay. Definitely a change. Think I could get used to it."

I'm standing in front of the mirror in the bedroom of the RV, still fussing and playing with a few errant strands of my new hairstyle; cut into an elongated bob, then dyed raven black with green bangs. It makes me look just a little bit butch, albeit in a kind of femmy, punky way. Chloe convinced me to go with it a couple days ago, and it's seriously growing on me.

So a little catch up, I guess? Thing One: we're in San Francisco now. Yay! And we have been for the better part of at least three weeks. We spent a few days at Burning Man on the way over, which was...eye-opening, to put it mildly. I got such amazing photographs though, and I even managed to sell a bunch to hipsters who appreciated the 'unique authenticity and sole agency' of instant film. I can dig that; it's not like you can make a buzillion copies of that photo and have it be exactly the same, not like you can with digital. It's as much physical artifact as it is an image itself, all rolled up into one nice, neat package. Nice to find people who appreciate that, even if some of them insist on paying with aura readings and handmade jewelry.

Chloe also convinced me to take some molly with her too, you know, kind of a once in a lifetime thing? I'm just going to say that dropping a drug like that when you're already crazy in love with someone is almost painful intense, like I was in total withdrawal when I wasn't in actual physical contact with her at all times.

But wow...

Everything was gorgeous. Everything was light. Everything was love.

All the glow strips and sticks were solid, buzzing tangible magic that whispered happy karma joytime in your eyes, and everyone's crazy outfits made it feel like we were walking in a different frequency of reality. You'd think I'd be a little more jaded about that kind of experience. I mean, shit, I DID used to bend time to my will, but that's like a dream to me now, most days. Hardly real at all. I suppose in a legitimate way, it IS just a dream. What's real anymore, when you're the only person to remember it?

Okay, so it was a positive thing, but I'm not sure I'd do it again. Or at least not often. Maybe once a year or two? Don't know, not gonna worry about figuring it out. Glad I tried, at least once.

We made our way to California after that, San Francisco, because of course we was that NOT going to happen? Roy and Chloe struck up a bit of a friendship during our time in Reno, and he put her in touch with the owner of some place called Black and Blue, woman by the name of Jenny. I guess she was something of a protege of his, and she agreed to take Chloe under her wing, and train her up some more. Pays her a little bit under the table, and best of all, has been letting Chloe finish up my arm sleeve for just the cost of materials, during the night after the shop closes.

She's learning a lot, and you know what? She's so damn happy now. Every night, when she comes back to the RV for dinner, she tells me - no, she practically gushes - about some new thing she learned, or something Jenny showed her, or some bit of praise someone gave her. This isn't just a job for her, this is what she wants from life. She's bouncing out of bed now in the morning, acting like she's the luckiest woman in the world to go off and work at the place she does, for barely any money. Part of me almost can't stand to hit the road again, like we planned for October. Because I feel like I'm taking her away from the best place she's ever been mentally in her life, definitely since William died. But she keeps telling me we need to roll on with our life right now, and she can always come back again some other day. Even though I can see it in her eyes, the way she wants to return. I can't help but wonder if I haven't lost her, ultimately, to San Francisco. Except for the crushingly huge expensiveness of the place, there are SOOOO many worse cities to be in.

Anyhow, back to the tattoo stuff. That's the reason why I got my hair completely redone; it's part celebration for us both. A major life event, something that's changing me. Changing us both, I guess. I have to admit, when she made those last few touches, after so many hours just sitting together while she brought my vision to life, I could feel an almost palpable click; it was as if a chain binding the two of us finally snapped shut, and there was no way now the two of us were ever going to not be together. I was utterly hers now, just as I know she is eternally mine. Maybe other people would just say it's age and lack of experience talking, and we're being stupid and setting ourselves up for disappointment but I believe it with all my heart. I might be "only" nineteen, but I've seen a lot more than most my age, thank you very much.

Oh, shit, yeah! It's totally my birthday today, by the way! September 21th. So happy birthday to me! Hard to believe, right? A year ago today, I was just barely starting at Blackwell. That was a whole different lifetime ago.

"A whole different Max Caulfield." I say to myself in the mirror.

I'm pretty sure past-Max would have trouble recognizing herself now. Like a butterfly coming out of it's chrysalis at long last. Finding my own style, my own path in life. I've had a lot of time to think and walk about, exploring the city, taking more pictures than I can possibly count, during the days when Chloe is at work. San Francisco is just gorgeous, this time of year. Jenny crabs about how things have changed, how too much money is gentrifying the whole place, and how much better it was fifteen years ago; maybe she's got a point. I just don't have any reference, but then again, doesn't every generation say that about change? That the past was always better than the future?

The hardest part is getting around. We have to keep the Princess Sparklefists Express in an RV park on the outskirts of the city, and even with things like the commuter train and BART, it's still a pain, a pricey one at that, to get around. Especially since Chloe and I have different schedules these days. It makes me wish we had a smaller car to tow around, for times like this. On the other hand, it's not like we're staying much longer so maybe just putting up with the inconvenience is a small price to pay.

Anyhow, back to more awesome things, like me and my birthday stuff! The morning started off with birthday nookie, which admittedly is a lot like our regular nookie. Only with more spanking jokes. Hee.

But the important part is how she looks when she wakes me up first thing. Naked, of course, but with pretty much all her hair - which she's been growing out over the past few months, to the point where it's past her shoulders a little bit - tucked underneath her skater beanie.

"Morning, my magnificent Mad Maxy." she purrs against my ear.

She has the best bedroom voice.

I'm still curling my toes thinking about it.

"Happy super stupid fresh dope happenin' awesome nineteenth birthday today. You ready to have your entire world hella rocked in it's fucking face?"

I roll onto my back and sleepily trace my fingers up her sides. "Off to a good start already. What's with hiding all your hair though?"

"Oh, that? Yeah well - I kinda went out, in the middle of the night while you were sleeping, and had this done. So be prepared for some sheer gigacool."

She pulls off the beanie, tosses it towards the small chair, then slowly shakes her hair out, as if luxuriating in the effort. And I don't really know how to describe it, other than...wow. It's purple. Well, no, it's violet now, really. But it's more than just that, it's all super soft looking , shimmery, and vibrant, with subtle color gradations from light to dark, and an almost prismatic effect. It's like the world's most perfect hair (forever), especially if you're living in an anime.

"Holy...is that? Are you wearing a wig?!" I call out disbelieving, as I reach over and give a playful tug. She laughs and leans in, letting me get a good fistful.

"Nope! It's all one-hundred totes Chloe! Grade-Quadruple A!"

I run both my hands through it now, unable to stop myself from playing with it, rubbing my face in it. It feels as amazing as it looks and smells...

"Holy shit, is that roses!? Mmmmm! That's incredible."

"I know, right?! I won't shock you with how much it all cost, but there's this woman about three blocks over from the tattoo place who agreed to open up in the middle of the night and give me her best, and therefore most expensive, hair style. I'm not going to say she's magic or anything but...she totally did it with witchcraft. You like?"

"I love! But why the change? You always seemed so happy with just blue Manic Panic straight from the bottle."

"Yeah well, time for a new chapter in my life, right? YOU don't get to have all the fun. 'Cause, I mean, I've been thinking it over a while, and I realized something last week: Blue Chloe doesn't have much reason to hang around anymore. Blue Chloe was angry, and pissy, and kinda hated the whole world and got off on giving it the middle finger when she could. She was just living, waiting for life to get on with it. But Violet Chloe is love, and how amazeballs the future is going to be with her eternal soulmate, so yeah. Violet is kicking Blue's ass to the damn curb and saying 'There's a new sheriff in town, bitch! Gitdout!"

I pull her close for a kiss, murmuring against her mouth, "Oooooh. Super, super sexy. Don't go changing too much, okay? But-but I love it."

"Don't worry, some shit will always be the same." she remarks with a wry little smirk, reaching over to grab her vaporizer from the small nightstand. Puffs away for a few moments and then trails kisses down my ear and neck, whispering, "Right, so you just rest your cute birthday ass right here in bed. Imma go and make waffles just the way you like them; you eat the waffles, I eat you, it's a nutritionally awesome and sexy way to start your big day.

I burst out laughing at this, and shake my head. I still can't get over how open and free she is about things like sex, but it's one of the reasons I completely, hopelessly adore her.

"Bring the strawberries and whipped cream with you. They go with more than just waffles."

"Oh-la-la, babydoll!"

I rise up, just enough to steal one more kiss from her before she can leave the bed and trill, "I love you...Chloewoieyummymuffin."

This just about reduces her to tears, as she giggles for a good thirty seconds straight. She finally catches her breath, and starts to passionately rub her nose against mine as she croons out. "Maxywaxyookumsnookies!"

Oh my God, we are so disgustingly cute sometimes.

I hope it's always that way between us.

* * *

"Okay. Wow. Now THIS is really a change..."

When she finally dragged me out into the city proper, Chloe insisted in buying me a whole new wardrobe. Like literally, throw out most of the clothes I have now and buy all new everything. Love that woman, but holy shit sometimes she has trouble scaling herself back. I managed to convince her to limit our shopping spree to four or five outfits TOPS and no, she couldn't just get me nothing but lingerie!

And to be fair, she DOES have way superior taste than mine; from the day I first let her pick out my outfit, on the morning after we broke into the school, and went swimming in the pool, when she first dared me to kiss her...

...oh shit.

I did it again.

I hug myself, and let the moment pass, taking comfort in the fact that these memory slips are becoming fewer and further between. Still, I can't help but give a little bit of a shiver, for what was lost. I mean, for what it's worth, in this 'prime time' line I live in now, something really similar happened, not long after Chloe got out of the hospital.

 _No sense in letting this get me down. It's my birthday, damnit!_

So where was I? Right. These days, I'm always letting Chloe be my fashion consultant, because she's got a taste for what looks good, a talent I kinda lack. I mean, I do okay but...

Damn, do I look good now. Even if I would have sworn this totally isn't my style. Our last shopping expedition for the day, and she's taken me to this place on Howard Street, I think?, called Stormy Leather. I'm sure all you perverts out there can imagine what kind of shop it is.

Still, the fashionably cut, tight leather jeans, paired with a half-bodice, which has these straps that rise up to meet a choker around my neck. Combined with the heavy duty biker boots, I look good, especially now with my new hair doo. Not to mention the tattoo! It's like I'm finally noticing myself for the first time.

"Oh shit!" I whisper. "I am HOT. Totes and cereal perfection."

Kind of butch, but in a sexy, femme-y way...if that makes any sense. Wait, I said that before, right? About the hair? But it fits. Hair and outfit were made for each other! I'm totally enjoying myself as I strike poses in the mirror and blow kisses.

I give a devilish grin and imagine I'm talking to Chloe. "I am totally going to melt your brain into a little pile of goo, Chloe-cakes."

With that, I turn on one booted heel, throw back the curtain from the dressing room, lean against the side of the way and puur out, "Hey stud. Looking for a date?"

Annnnnd fuuuuuuck. Chloe's not there.

In her place, however, is a confused looking sales clerk. Allison, according to her name tag. Poor Allison, who's doing her best impression of a deer caught in the headlights.

She quickly recovers with a smile and answers, "Uhhh...thanks? But I'm already seeing someone, and believe it or not, while I work in a fetish shop in San Francisco, I don't roll that way. I mean, no offense, you look absolutely killer in that! If I did go for girls, I would take you up on that offer, no doubt."

Self-consciously, I pull the curtain over me, as if trying to hide. God, my face must be a zillion shades of red right now, as I murmur, "Sorry. Um. My girlfriend. I thought she was waiting for me, out there. Probably got distracted by something even sexier. But I mean like, I was going to surprise her and stuff..."

"Are you talking about the woman with the purple hair? Yeah, I think she want to try something on, actually."

I roll my eyes and giggle. "What, do you guys make punk and skater wear out of rubber or something?"

The curtain from another nearby changing booth slides back, in one solid, smooth motion, as Chloe announces, "Nope. But they have some other hella slick stuff here, oh my Maxima."

There is a good five to ten second disconnect between what my eyes take in, and how my brain processes it. She is just - just absolutely poured into this slinky one piece leather bandage dress, with spandex panels on the side to add some cling and give. A lot of her arm tats are covered by the shoulder length gloves, kind of like what fancy people wear to an opera or something? A black leather band is wrapped around her neck, with a skull charm hanging from it. And, wait, did she put on more makeup? Inside the changing booth? How else did she get on the blush and the black lipstick?

I drift over, and look up, and up, and up. Always a good inch or so taller than me, she's now got even more of an advantage thanks to her high heeled boots. I swallow dryly, and rasp out. "Uh...so ah...hah. Hiyeee. Like I said: Wanna date?"

She reaches out, brushing leather-coated fingers against my face, making me swoon from the sensation, and the scent of high grade kidskin, wrapping them through a fistful of my hair. She smirks, then coos, "Anyone ever tell you how adorable you are when Teh Horny breaks your brain?"

I blush down to my chest yet again, reaching out to run my hands over her curves, "I just can't believe, I mean shit, you're actually in a dress!"

"Hey! I wear dresses. I mean, I HAVE worn dresses. Once. Sometimes. Every so often."

"Yeah well, unless you engaged in a debauched frenzy of dress wearing while I was in Seattle, I haven't seen you in anything that wasn't pants or shorts since you were thirteen!"

Chloe starts to protest, but sputters short. Blinks, and then realizes, "Oh shit. Damn hon, I think you're right! Well, that makes this a super special occasion then, right? Happy birthday!"

"Well, you feel as incredible as you look right now." I muse with a wicked little smirk and a glint in my eye, as my hands slip down and over her backside. I'm about to tell her that she's probably the most incredible present I've ever had on this or any other birthday, but my hormones decide to jump ahead of the game; it's a good two or three seconds before the rest of me realizes that I'm planting an incredibly passionate kiss on her mouth, one that she's more than happy to return.

Poor Allison - although I can only imagine she's seen plenty of shit go down in a place like this - merely clears her throat and asks, "So does that mean you'll take the outfits?" Not missing a beat, I reaching into one of the pockets, fumbling to retrieve a credit card by feel alone, and then wave it out in her general direction, still not opening my eyes or breaking the kiss.

"Uhhh...okay. Which one of you is paying exactly?"

That's when I finally come to my senses, and realize that Chloe has done exactly the same thing, all but throwing her card at the saleswoman.

"Two cards, same account. But it's her birthday, so I'm buying."

Allison feigns appropriate interest, taking Chloe's as she says, "Well then, happy birthday! Would you like us to wrap those up, or...?"

I glance back towards my skater girl and give a throaty little laugh. "I think we'll wear it out the store." I have to admit, I'm damn pleased when I ACTUALLY make Chloe blush. Go Team Max! About damn time, it's so hard to get her to do it, but oh my God, she looks SOOOOO cute when she does.

She blinks nervously, looking away from me. "D-damn Max. Really? I mean...well. Dunno what I mean. This is kinda hardcore though, for walking around outside, maybe?"

I cock my hips again. "What, this? We're more dressed up than half of the bikini-top and Daisy Duke-wearing rollerchicks wandering around this city. I mean shit Chlo, if two girls can't dress up in leather and wander around San Francisco hand in hand, then where CAN they? Hell, I just look like a biker mama, and you, my little chicky-boo. Around here, we're as American as artisanal organic apple pie with locally sourced, non-GMO vanilla ice cream"

She bursts out laughing, "Chicky-boo? Jesus babe." She shakes her head and murmurs, "Alright. But only for a little while, okay? Because birthday and everything."

I shake my head and then boop her on the tip of her nose. "Is this all because you're wearing a dress? Like seriously, if you got a pair of leather chaps or something, would that actually work out better?"

"Would you hit me if I said yes?"

"Not any harder than I normally do." We both giggle conspiratorially as Allison returns for the sales slip to sign.

"Yeah, hold up a bit, I think we're not entirely done shopping yet."

* * *

So Chloe was a good sport, in that she let me drag her around for a little while in uber femme mode, but damn if you never saw a woman who was SO glad to get out of a dress, and back into pants and a t-shirt.

She's such a dork! God I love that about her. Also: mmmmm...I am going to take so many pictures of her in that dress sometime soon. And then OUT of that dress.

Stlll, it WAS a weird little role reversal the hour that we went for our stroll. I don't know what it was, but I really had this weird boost of self-confidence and a massive case of "totally not giving a fuck about what the rest of the world thinks"-itis. Like, yay us for fucking around with whatever femme/butch dynamic inhabits our relationship. Chloe was much more demure and reserved though, almost hiding behind her hair on occasion as we'd pass people by. Although I must admit, the novelty wore off a bit after we got catcalled by the third group of frat boys. And then Chloe was all middle fingers and swear words.

Ugh. Stupid boys. Can't live with them, and for some reason it's illegal to throw rocks at them.

Alright, maybe Chloe WAS far more nuclear-hot and sexy in that dress and those gloves than I initially took into consideration, because after she changed, we attracted far less attention once we looked like a matching pair of leather and flannel wearing biker babes.

Speaking of which...

"Don't tell me you girls are actually looking to buy something?"

Mid-afternoon, and Chloe and I have ended up at a Harley-Davidson dealership in..um...San Mateo, I think? The sales guy, who eventually introduces himself as Jim, has the appearance of an overly tanned and weathered blonde in his fifties. I've got to hand it to him though, he definitely looks the part of someone who's seem infinity-plus miles riding on the road, and probably knows what he's talking about when he's trying to sell you on a motorcycle.

"What? Ah, nah...we're just kinda window shopping."

I hip-bump Chloe playfully and murmurs, "Babe, you know we've got a little money burning a hole in our bank account right now." I turn to the sales guy and say, "So yeah, show us what you got."

The both look at me, give almost the exact same "You've got to be bullshitting me." sort of expression.

I wrap an arm around Chloe and lean in to whisper, "What...ah...are you not interested? I mean, if you're not, that's okay, I just figured..."

"Oh, no no no. Oh God, no, I really would like to...I mean I think it'd be. Just. Really? You're into the idea? Of getting a motorcycle? What, we'd just tow it with the RV or something?"

I nod once and grin reassuringly, "Yeah. something like that."

"Hah. Wow. Okay, I just...it didn't seem like YOU. You know? Kinda dangerous and impulsive and...?"

"What? I can change! I can change!" I start to sing it a little, like from the South Park movie. I begin to poke and tickle at her ribs as she gives me A Look. "I can! Okay, maybe a year ago, the idea of me doing something like this would be a really foreign concept to all observers, and yeah, yeah, alright, as a girl growing up, I was always Carrie Caution, but shit hon. I've been through a lot. WE'VE been through a lot. I'd be lying if I said there wasn't something appealing about being able to take off onto the open road, just the two of us on a bike, whenever we wanted. Don't get me wrong, Princess Sparklefists is great, but she's literally our entire damn house on wheels. Makes it hard to get to places sometimes. Liiiike...the city. You know, we're burning through all this cash, on taxi trips and train fare, because we can't easily drive her back and forth in and out of the city."

I grab her hand, threading my fingers through, and lean against her. "So lets do this. Yeah, maybe it's kind of a crazy purchase, but it also super-makes sense for our situation, and it's something we can keep and enjoy for a few years. It's a lot better than dealing with the hassle of buying a smaller car and towing that instead. So there, does THAT sound more like me?"

She playfully swats my bottom and cries out, "O hell yeah! There's the practical, mature artiste I love and adore." She then turns to Jim and says, "'Kay then. We'll take one motorcycle, please. Don't hafta wrap it up, we'll just hop on and go."

I give my eyes and exaggerated roll, "Yeah, don't listen to her. Why don't you show us around, and we can figure out what works for what we need, and what we can afford to spend."

To his credit, despite an initial expression that says 'This is going to be a waste of my time' he does give us the tour of the various motorcycles. It's...I wish I'd done a bit more research on this sort of thing. Like...ANY research. My sudden impulsive streak is wearing off, but I'll hand it to Jim, he answers each and every one of my questions without giving me too much of a hard sell or leaving me feeling like a total idiot.

Chloe, being Chloe, is of course rushing about and poking at various bikes on the lot as Jim and I talk, hopping on them and pretending to be tearing down the highways of her mind.

"This chopper. This is the bike I want. It was SO destined for me, hon. C'mon embrace the destiny!"

I'll give it to her, this Harley, whatever the heck model it is, DOES make her look like a pimping road queen. I close my eyes for a moment and just imagine, roaring down some desert highway at top speed, my arms wrapped around her from behind, wind whipping against us, give a little shudder and sigh.

Okay. We need to do this. Even if it seems stupid and impulsive and dumb, I'm afraid I've already fallen in love with this vision that my mind's conjured up.

"First off," I murmur, "I get to drive as well as ride in the back. Second, that bike LOOKS cool, but it's gotta be hella uncomfortable after a while. And...uh...if we're going to go out on the road with it sometimes, I think it'll need saddlebags."

Jim intervenes before Chloe can respond, "It sounds like the two of you might like to look at a Switchback. It's a model that came out just a couple years ago, converts between street bike and touring modes. Looks nice, handles well, starts off with windshield, saddlebags and basic black finish."

Chloe quirks an eyebrow and hmmmmms, low in the back of her throat, "Can we test drive one or something?"

"Sure. We even rent bikes out by the week, if you want to take a little time to get a feel for it. I'd just need a deposit and a copy of your motorcycle license if you wanted to go in that direction."

Oh. Shit!

That's when it hits me. And Chloe, at the same time.

"Motorcycle license? Wait, you need a SEPARATE license for...for...c'mon, it's not that different from driving a car, right?"

Jim smiles thinly and pretends he didn't hear that. "Sorry. Different kind of license. Bit more involved, actually. A lot of states make you take a class and road training." I also can't help but notice that there is a somewhat pissed look in his eyes, because he sure as hell isn't making a sale today.

"Whoa, now wait a second, I've got an idea! Maybe we can..."

I hold out a hand, resting it on Chloe's shoulder and just shake my head to her. Then look over to Jim and say, "Looks like we ended up wasting your time today after all, Jim. Sorry about that."

He gives a languid shrug; if he's pissed, he's hiding it well. "That's alright, I appreciate the apology all the same. If you're serious though, get your licenses, and I'll make sure you get the best deal I can offer on one of these bad girls, yeah? Everyone's gotta start sometime, and I think you two would love it once you got your feet wet."

Chloe glances down forlornly at the street beast she's straddling, and reluctantly dismounts. Giving it a gentle pat, she murmurs, "Oh poor Chloe. Who knows how long it'll be before she knows the gentle touch of a half ton of hard, unrelenting steel between her legs once again?"

I choke back a cough, and quickly usher her off the lot, the blush burning my cheeks twice as hot now, but I can't help but laugh once we're out of earshot.

I wrap an arm tightly around her and nuzzle at her hair, cooing, "All that raw, aggressive vibrating power? Gonna ruin us for men, you know."

"Yeah, hell, we might even turn into lesbians or something. Oh shit babe, too late!" She leans over, and kisses me, hot, sweet, and quick.

I bite at her lips, shivering and stroking her cheek, returning the kiss and crooning, "Ooo nuu! You gave me your Gay!"

"Nya ha ha. Now you'll never know the sublime joy of hooking up with Warren and being his baby-mama five times over or something."

I visibly shudder, "Fuck! Don't put that shit in my head, dork! Antidote! Antidote!" I grab both cheeks now and pull her close, losing myself in yet another kiss that she's more than happy to provide.

As we trudge back to the commute train, she nips at my hair gently and asks, "Hey, so why did you shut me down back there? Not mad, but you seemed so, you know? Ready to jump into this without looking back. You getting cold feet? I mean, that's okay. I know we've been pushing our luck a lot this trip."

I roll my eyes in an overly dramatic fashion, "Shit, THAT'S putting it lightly! Between your idea in Colorado, and MY idea in Nevada, I'm surprised reality itself hasn't collapsed under the weight of ALL the stuff we're getting away with! Man, we were so...SO. But no, that's not it. Believe it or not, I want this. More than ever. I don't know how to describe it, but I can really see you and me doing this, and doing it for a long time. Like a serious thing, you know. So if that's the case, I don't want to try and cheat the system or tempt fate." I sigh and squeeze her hand tightly.

"I wanna do this right. From start to finish. Especially before we go throwing half of your casino winnings or more at this. I guess if I'm going to embrace this awesomely crazy idea, I want to do it as seriously and rationally as possible."

"Hah. Yeah, you're a fucking paradox sometimes, Buggy. Uh, but you realize this means I'll have to go back to Oregon and get a license. Oh! And I guess we'll need to take you back to Washington for the same."

I shake my head, "Nu-uh. I officially changed my place of residency when I moved in with your Mom and David, after I dropped out of Blackwell."

"Black-HELL!"

I pinch her side at that, smiling, "So no, I'm once again as much a legal resident of Arcadia Bay on paper as you now."

She slows to a stop, turns and looks at me, shifts her beanie for a moment, like she does when she gets nervous and doesn't want me to see it, but I TOTALLY see it because duh, and says, "Well, maybe you wanna go back to Seattle anyhow. You probably haven't seen your parents in a while, and I never got to see your old life there."

I tilt my head this way and that, "Wow, that was...specifically specific."

"Just sayin'."

"Hah. Yeah. Seattle. God. My old life. Old, with a capital Oh. It all seems like a dream. But...maybe you're right, maybe we should. There ARE some amazing places there I'd like to show you. Food, and the Space Needle, and all kinds of things. Friends I haven't talked to in a year and WOW do I suck as a friend."

"Mmmyeahthen. So another week or so, and we pull up stakes and head back up the coast?"

"Sure, baby. And don't think I didn't notice that you've got a plan, because I totally see you have a plan."

"I have no fucking clue what you're talking about."

I start to skip around her in circles. "A Plan! A Plan! You haaas it." I sing over and over. "And I knoooow it!"

She shakes her head and reaches into her jacket, pulling out a cigarette. Lighting it up, she mutters, trying to assume an air of nonchalance, "You are SO fucking weird sometimes, Maxima. You're lucky I love you too much to care."

I hug her side tightly, and whisper, just barely loud enough to be heard, "Yeah. I AM lucky. I'm the luckiest girl in the world."

* * *

"Oh my Goddess! This...this is so damn awesome! Chloe, did you seriously bribe God or someone to make the sunset this perfect? Because if you spent everything in the Biker Mama fund, I'm gonna be - uh - well...moderately pissed I guess."

Would I be a horrible girlfriend if I admitted that sometimes I'm really surprised by how creative my Chloe can be? It sounds like I'm selling her short though; it's just that she's come off as a slacker for so long - until recently at least - part of me sort of expects to be let down a little bit.

Note to self: STOP IT. Because right now, spread out on this picnic cloth, perched up on a little hill, we are getting the best view of BOTH the Golden Gate Bridge and Alcatraz Island illuminated by the setting sun. If anything I'M being a shitty girlfriend right now, taking about fiftyzillionmillion pictures, trying to capture the absolutely perfect moment. And here's Chloe laying out her own little version of tappas: olives, grapes, crusty bread and cheeses and meats, actual factual _patatas bravas_ and a bottle of champaign. Even a dippy, but oh-so-classic candelabra adding it's own light to the quickly dying rays of golden, liquid sun.

"Would you and my Dad's camera like to be alone, or do you guys have an open relationship?"

I blush, and lower the instamatic, smiling sheepishly to Chloe, who's stretched out on her side, as if to say that she's also part of the spread. Yum yum yum.

"How's it go? A loaf of bread, a jug of wine, and my baby who sexes me up super good?"

"Close enough. I whisper, and lean in, snagging the little slice of bread topped with prosciutto that she's holding out for me, taking my time to lick and nibble at her fingertips, keeping my eyes positively locked onto hers as I chew delicately.

Swallowing at last, I breathe out, "Really, really good, Chlo."

"Yeah, right? I'm gonna miss this place. We'll just have to keep coming back."

Time passed by at it's own unhurried pace; after my strange little adventure, I've never not fully appreciated how differently we perceive it's passing based on current events and company. I can't help but wonder if it's a trick of the mind, or if we actually do subconsciously control the flow.

We don't talk much, at least not with words. We eat, mostly feeding each other. We drink the wine, we savor our own quiet company, in that rare, lovely place where we can truly enjoy the silence without the awkward need to stay chatty and engaged.

There is such peace, as sunset turns to dusk, then to the first purplish hint of twilight. Like a bubble of pure joy surrounds our small corner of the park; takes the ground, and the air and the light, and makes it into a world that exists only for the two of us. I lay back, spreading out, and soak it all in, more content than I can ever remember feeling before.

"I hope you saved room for dessert, Buggy! Because I haaave...birf-dae cake!" She starts to rummage around the old-timey pick-a-nic type basket, of the sort that Yogi Bear is always hunting down.

"Oh! Yeah! Can't wait to see what you got me."

She smirks, still rummaging and says, "I gaat yoo a caak! I made it with my doo!"

I groan, tossing a small, leftover crust of bread at her head, and just barely miss. "If you love me, like really, truly, fucking love me, there will be no more Family Guy references!"

Chloe groans out, "Fine." Naturally I steeple my fingers onto my tummy and gloat, "Victory is mine!"

"Don't make me run off with the cake bitch, because I totally will!"

"Oh shut up, and show me already! I wanna see what you got."

"Fine, close your eyes. Yeah. Yeah that's right, keep them closed."

I hear her rummaging around, and after another few seconds, there is the distinctive sound of metal hitting flint from a Zippo lighter. She then intones, barely above a whisper, "Open them eyes now, babe."

When I do, Chloe has her legs curled up underneath her, holding up what looks like an oversized red velvet cupcake, large enough to feed three or four people, with a single purple candle sticking up from the middle. The pose, the half lid of her eyes, the come-hither smile; it all makes her look like some sort of fifties pinup girl. And I suppose that's exactly the look she goes for as she starts to sing, in an over-exaggerated impression of Marilyn Monroe:

" _Happy birthday to you.  
_ _My hair was once blue.  
_ _You look like a hottie.  
_ _And you taste like one too!"_

I dissolve into giggles at this, before quickly blowing out the candle and snagging a kiss from her.

"Go one. Take a bite. You know you wanna."

"Fine, then cut me a slice, homeslice."

"Nah. None of this 'plates' and 'forks' and 'civil behavior' bullshit. You just go and take a big ol' bite out of it. It's a fat-ass cupcake right? Eat it like one!"

"Holy shit, for cereal? Yes!"

I probably look completely ridiculous doing it, but I gotta admit, there's a certain amount of visceral decadence that is truly satisfying, just biting into a whole cake like that. It's even better when the love of your life chomps away slowly at the other end. The cake is quickly put down when we just decide to lick frosting off our cheeks and lips for a while.

"So whatcha wish for, Max Damage?"

"Can't tell you, Chloe Girl. But if you have to know, I wanted an awesome day with my lady, and clearly the wish came true and then worked in reverse. Because MAGIC!, bitches." We're laughing like we're crazy for a minute, and then I reach over, licking the last of the frosting off the tip of her nose. "Really though. Thank you, baby. This has been THE best day of my life. It didn't have to be crazy or cosmic or anything like that, I just needed quality time with you, and damn if you didn't deliver in metric fucktons." I lean against her and murmurs, "Yeah. Right here. Don't think it gets any better than this moment, right here."

A prolonged pause passes between us. I can literally feel the 'gulp' going through Chloe's throat and chest as she stammers out, "I-I'd like to give it a try, M-Max. If you just give me a moment. 'Kay?" She turns around, reaching into the basket, and then hiding something in her fist. She then grabs my hand with the other one and pulls me up. "You...you gotta be standing for this, okay?"

Lazily, I play along, more than happy to see where this is going. Initially, I have no idea what she could possibly have in mind. But then...

...then it hits me between the eyes.

Oh shit. I know what's coming. Of COURSE this is coming, how could I not see that she'd...?

My heart starts to drum fast and quick in my chest, but I do my best to keep my face pleasantly neutral. I want...I need to hear what Chloe's going to say.

"We - well, we've been through a lot of shit together, haven't we? I mean since day one. Halloweens and birthdays, and movies and art and when my cat died, and when your dog got run over, and oh my God, the first time we both got grounded because that time we stayed out all night."

She takes a shaky, labored breath, squeezing my hand tight, as she struggles to continue. I just fix my best, warmest, most supportive smile, willing her to continue.

"And then it - it - stopped. Dad died. And right after that, your family up and moves to Seattle. Things got really fucked up between us you know? I said some pretty lousy shit, about how you should have been a better friend, and demanding to know how could you be leaving me. And you tried to reach out to me, a few times. Tried to keep the friendship going but I let it die off. I was so wrapped up in my own anger and frustration and self-pity that I almost let the best thing in my life fade away completely. But I want you to know that I..."

"Chloe." I interrupt. "It-it wasn't all on you. I gave up too easy. I let it slip away, and I especially was a shitty friend not getting in touch with you as soon as I came back to -"

She puts a finger to my lips, shhhing me. "Babe. No offense, but seriously, let me take the blame for this. It'll sound better for when I finally ask...ah shit!" She winces, and then shakes her head. "Fuck. Let me just - let me just make this quick. You saved my life, Max. Literally, figuratively. I was this angry girl getting myself into worse and worse trouble. Self destructive and shit. You know it's true, because look where it got me, in that bathroom! And you saved my life twice: once when you pushed the gun away so that I could survive the shot, and second, when you gave me a reason to live."

Her eyes start to water, and she sniffles, reaching up to daub at them. "Hearing that you loved me was the last thing I took with me before passing out into a coma. Did you know that? Maybe I didn't have time to process or understand it, but it gave me what I needed so I could hang on, fight, stay alive. I KNOW it did. And then you were there, right beside me in my hospital bed when I woke up, the woman from five years out of my past, with declarations of undying love, and a hella crazy acid dream of a story about timelines and shit. With proof! So...just...you just..."

She falls to her knees, head bowed, and in a tiny, vulnerable voice, pushes out the question burning at the tip of her tongue, "Maxine Caulfield, will you marry me? I-I've loved for what seems like my whole life. A life I need you to be in. Probably sounds pathetic, but I'm only half a person without you. They say friendship is one soul in two bodies; so please, just keep being the other half of my soul."

She finally reveals what she's been hiding in her hands. The diamond ring.

It still catches me by surprise. I mean, I knew this was coming, I just KNEW it, and yet - everything goes still. My vision starts to elongate, and suddenly I'm caught up in a memory of another time, another place.

" _...still struggling to explain the freak weather, as record gales are being reported around the Arcadia Bay area. With funnel clouds already forming, meteorologists are predicting wind speed force in excess of F-4, possibly as high as F-5. As the National Guard mobilizes, mandatory evacuations are being called for..."_

 _I stare out at the window, hugging myself against the chills as I listen to the emergency radio and watch the product of my hubris take physical form. Alone, in the dark, the power having gone out about ten minutes earlier._

 _I did this._

 _This was all on me._

 _I have to be the one to fix it._

 _A hand rests on my shoulder, causing me to jump, turn around. Chloe is there, smiling softly, leaning in to kiss my lips with gentle grace._

" _Hey."_

" _Chloe! What are you doing here? Please tell me Joyce and David are out at least? I told you, you need to go with - "_

" _Maxima, chill. No worries, they're hella gone, probably two counties away by now. I kinda - well - I slipped away. I gave her a note though, told her not to worry about me."_

 _The pain gnaws in my chest, travels its way up my sternum, through my throat, until it twists my face into an outward mask of heartache._

" _This isn't your fight, Chloe." I breathe out. "This is literally between me and - and - and whatever the hell is happening .Maybe Time and Space itself. You need to get out and ..."_

" _I NEED to be HERE! With you, Max. With you, by your side. I mean shit, you don't think this scares me? Because fuck it all, it sure does. But you know what scares me more? The thought that you could ever think I wouldn't be here for you, by your side. That after letting you go for five whole years, I'd ever do it again. God damn monster tornado can jump up my vagina for all I care, but I'm not leaving you. We'll get through this, together. You can do it Max. You can make this right. I know you can."_

 _Hot tears sting my eyes, burn their way down slowly across my cheeks. She envelops me in her arms, her faith and her love, stroking my hair and shushing me. There's so much I want to tell her now, and so little time to say it._

 _Our fingers meet, intermeshing and lazily playing together. I stroke her left ring finger, a sudden inspiration arising unbidden._

" _If - I...WHEN we get through this, how about we stop playing pretend on where this is going, you know? For reals." I wrap a meaningful pinky around her ring finger._

 _She doesn't hesitate. She doesn't stumble, or question. No 'Are you fucking kidding me, it's only been five days!'. She cups my face, runs her hands through my hair and nods once._

" _Yeah. Let's. For reals."_

" _Just like that?"_

" _Duh! Don't you think it's pretty obvious this is where things were going anyhow? Because I do. If we don't know each other by now, after growing up together, then we won't ever know, will we?"_

 _I think to point out that the five years between thirteen and eighteen are a massive gulf but I think I like her simple headstrong explanation better._

 _Reluctantly, I pull away. "It's time. I have to go. Go and do this. Somehow pull a city saving rabbit out of my hat."_

 _She takes my hand and squeezes, clearly brooking no dissent. "So what's the plan, babe?"_

" _Don't have one yet." I confess. "Pretty sure I will when the time is right, though."_

 _I lie. I DO have a plan. Initially a failsafe backup, but one that screams towards me with impending, inescapable certainty. A plan that sits heavily in my back pocket, one that takes the form of a picture of a blue morpho in the girls bathroom. The one I snapped, far and away, in the the yawning eternity that was this past Monday morning._

 _Would have been nice to have been her bride. For reals. But I don't think that's in the cards for me._

"Max? Maaax? H-hello? Hey, not funny. Don't keep me hanging here, or...or I'm gonna."

"Yes." I mouth out the word silently.

Chloe tilts her head, uncertain what she's just seen.

Swallowing down the last remaining remembered chill of a time that now exists only for me, I look down, smiling through my tears of joy.

"I said: you better put a fucking ring on it already."

I hold my left hand out, in an accepting, almost submissive fashion. Chloe's hands tremble as she fumbles to slip the ring over it. A perfect fit; either it was luck, or she was sneaky and took a measurement off a piece of my jewelry when I wasn't looking.

I can feel a soft, delightful 'click' in the back of my brain, as I look down. See the tracings of my tattoo, from the start of the blue morpho, splitting out into the increasingly infinite threads of a vine, with multicolored butterflies inhabiting each strand. All of which ultimately find termination towards my fingers. Towards one finger in particularly.

My obvious and now permanent destiny.

NOW it's complete.

I'm entranced as I gaze into the diamond, a good half carat or more, with what must be the goofiest grin on my face, like I'm totally high as fuck. Which, you know, I actually DO know how that feels like now. But this is just a little bit better.

Still down on her knees, and looking up, she smirks winsomely. "Y'know, it's not official unless you actually say 'yes'. You didn't say it, and we're legally not engaged or anything, so you better..."

"YES!" I tackle her down onto the ground, covering her face in kisses until she's drowning in my absolutely and utterly unrestrained love for her. "Every second yes, and every minute yes, every hour and every day and every month and every year, YES!"

We both start to laugh drunkenly, and as she rolls around on the ground with me, "Don't have to say it more than once, I get the point."

"Oh SHUT up you bitch!" I yell as I start to tickle her mercilessly.

"Wait! Wait, ah! No no no! Not fair!" She's laughing and squirming, struggling to escape my grip. After a minute, she rolls me onto my back, pinning me down to the ground, At this point, I am so excited by the moment, she could make love to me right here and now, and I wouldn't care that we'd be putting on a show for all the people still in the park. Whom we must already be drawing the attention of.

It's why I don't immediately notice when Chole jumps up, cups her hands, and yells out, "HEY SAN FRAN! I JUST PROPOSED TO MY GIRLFRIEND, WHOM I'VE LOVED SINCE I WAS SIX!"

I start to lose it, curling up and laughing, "Oh! Oh - oh God, Chlo-chlo! You're crazy!"

But you have to hand it to San Francisco, and it's fair citizens. While most people ignore it, there are a few cheers, claps, and one flamboyant-sounding guy who calls out, "Well don't keep us in suspense! What did she say?!"

I wobble onto my feet and scream out, "YOU BETTER BELIEVE I SAID YES!"

"Good! Because that would have been really embarrassing otherwise! Now kiss!"

Wrapping an arm around my middle, and dipping me low, Chloe and and I do just that, to a few more cheers and applause.

I mutter against her mouth, "Oh God, you're right. I love this city!"

"We could always honeymoon here, Ms. Price."

"Whoa whoa whoa. Wait a second. Who says I'm taking your name. You could just as easily be Ms. Caulfield."

Chloe gives me the stinkeye, but she's only able to hold it for a few seconds before calling out, "Oh boy! Our first fight as an engaged couple!"

* * *

It turns out that Chloe had at least one more surprise for me, in the form of this gorgeous Parisian-style outdoor cafe. Sugaring me up with even more goodies, most of which she got for free because she kept telling the waiters that not only was it my birthday, but we just got engaged; things like cream pastries and this hot chocolate that was like blissful death in a motherfucking cup. I wasn't going to be sleeping anytime soon. But I had a feeling it wouldn't be the caffeine and sugar keeping me up.

But they stayed open late, letting me and Chloe slow dance until an hour past midnight, to the strains of violin and accordion. The world existed for us, and us alone.

"Best. Day. Ever."

"Yeah, now I'm going to have to propose to you every birthday, just to keep up with expectations."

"Speaking of expectations, I think you should now that you and I are totally taking tango lessons."

"Oh yeah? What for."

"For our wedding day, dummy! I've already got our first dance planned out. And the song for it."

"Oh REALLY now? What song?"

"Can't tell you. It's a surprise."

"The fuck, Maxima? It's hardly 'our song' if I don't even know what it is."

"It'll be the song you and me tango to on our wedding day. That'll make it special enough."

She snorts derisively at that. "Oh shit. You're gonna be a total Bridezilla, aren't you? I can already tell."

"No. Well, maybe yes? Shit, you better be prepared to kick my ass on occasion if you want any say in planning things out. I give you permission. And I'm going to have to tell...oh damn! Sweetie? Since we're going to Arcadia Bay again anyhow, can we stop by Seattle after? I really should tell my folks, and I REALLY should tell them in person."

"Sure, we can go back, but you won't be surprising them."

"...whaaat's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, c'mon. You don't think I'm going to just propose to you without asking Ryan, do you? For his blessing? Oh, he and your Mom say hi, by the way, and complained you don't call home enough."

I start to cough hard. "Oh. My. Fucking...REALLY? You asked my DAD for his permission to marry me?! What is this, like 1956? Gee wilikers! Good gosh a mighty Wally, I sure hope Mr. Wilson lets me take my best gal to the sock hop before the Commies from North Korea take over!"

"Oh shut up, Caulfield! You totally know you love it anyhow. All the fuss and attention I put into this."

I snicker against her shoulder, giving it a tiny lick as I confess. "You're right. I do." And then once more stare up at my outstretched hand, and the ring perched upon it.

"Oh babe, you ever going to stop ogling that thing?"

"Noooooo. Nevah! But seriously, I swear I've seen it before, like it's familiar, but I just can't figure out how or why."

Chloe slows a bit, in our dance. "Uh. Because. Um." Her chest heaves with a large sigh, as she lets the cat out of the bag. "It's Joyce's. I mean, it was the one my Dad gave her."

Dad. She means...

"William." I breathe out, prompting a single nod and a slow, sad smile from her.

I stop her dancing with me entirely ,too consumed with crushing the air from her frame with the force of the hug I give her. I barely even understand the tidal wave of emotion as is comes crashing down on me; one moment, all is still and calm, and I am completely lost in my lady. The next...

"Oh - oh my God. Oh. My. God." I almost start to hyperventilate, closing my fist tight, and nuzzling her like I'm going crazy. "Chloe. Baby, oh God. I'm...I know it hurts for you, but I miss him so much. Right this minute! I'm...I'm never gonna get a chance to call him 'Dad', either. And- and."

It's too much. I completely decompensate, collapsing against her, and begin sobbing.

"I'm sorry! Oh God, I'm so, so sorry Chloe! I'm sorry! I tried to save him. I tried so hard, for so long! I couldn't figure out how. Please forgive me, I couldn't...couldn't figure out how to save you both!"

I continue sobbing, inconsolable. It's a while before I come to my senses. Long before then, Chloe manages to pay what little remains of our check and hurry me out of the cafe.

* * *

"I'm sorry. I kinda ruined our night, didn't I"

Chloe smacks my bottom. "Babe, none of that. First off, it was YOUR own damn birthday to ruin, and second, you didn't ruin a thing. Lot of emotion going down, and I filled you up with sugar and..." She sighs heavily and fiddles self-consciously with one of her bangs. "I guess I'll admit, part of me was kind of surprised that hit you so hard. I mean, no offense, Buggy, but I feel I should be the one breaking down in tears." She smiles though, taking out whatever sting might have lain in that comment.

"Maybe" I say softly. "But he was like a father to me too, Chloe. You've met my parents. You know them. They love me, and they're good people, but my Mom, and especially my Dad are kind of...mmmm...emotionally reserved? I mean, they aren't cold, but in my family, we tend to keep a stiffer upper lip. But Joyce and William, and even David, they wear their hearts on their sleeves. They're good, passionate people, and yes, even David, stop rolling your eyes. And you do it too. It just really meant the world to me, how kind and how sweet and just awesome he was to me. Shit, I need to stop talking or I'm going to cry again."

Chloe groans low, and then hugs me, "Well fuck, now *I* should be the one apologizing. I really took it bad, when you first told me about how you managed to save my Dad for a little bit. And what you had to do, how you had to take it all back in the end, let him die...I mean...how you had to...fuck!" She squeezes my hand tight and says, "I was such a shitheel to you, for a whole week, and I'm sorry again for the way I acted. Look baby, let's put all this crap behind us right now. Despite the fuckitudinalness of things in general on planet Earth, it sounds to me like this lS really the best of all possible worlds, right? Because I know Dad, and he- he wouldn't. I mean if he knew that him living meant that there was no choice but for me to be stuck in a..." She bites down on her bottom lip, trembling.

She finishes with a slight croak, "Anyhow, yeah. You're right. It would have been nice. But let's just accept that wherever he is right now, he'd be so happy to know we're getting married."

I dash the remaining tears from my eyes and just nod. "Sounds good."

"Feel better?"

"A bit. I'm still going to need to process it, a little while, but it doesn't have to be right now."

We walk silently, hand in hand, the remaining mile to our RV in the trailer park.

Chloe turns to me and asks, "Still, that was a pretty fucking decent proposal, right? Awesome, yeah? Really, I WAS pretty awesome with it."

"Ha! Not to mention humble. But yes, it was sexy, and sweet, and cool, and wonderful. Just like you."

"Mmmmmroow. Well then, wife-to-be. How about I make you an INDECENT proposal?"

I give Chloe my best version of the look she calls 'Kawaii Bitch Kitten'. "Dunno. Does it start with you bending me over the kitchen table and giving me a bunch of birthday spankings before fucking me savagely with the strap on while feeding me bite-sized morsels of what's left of my birthday cake?"

In a low, dark tone, Chloe answers, "Well...fuck.. It sure as hell does now!"

We definitely don't get any sleep until well into the morning. But a decent proposal? Yeah, that's putting it mildly.

* * *

 _A/N:_ WHEW! Damn yo, that was a bit of a slog. It's mostly been that work has been crushing me lately. Extra super hard. I had to steal little snatches of time during lunch, and maybe a few minutes before bed, and just eek this out bit by bit. And believe me, this is one of those chapters that just takes FOREVER to push out. Where it just doesn't feel like it's ever coming out right, and there is just a point where you have to pull the trigger and let it go, or you never will publish. There were actually good chunks of a thousand words here and there that I wrote, then had totally toss, and redo in a different fashion. Getting used to that though, believe it or not, the very first chapter of this story was a good 6000 words, and NEVER saw the light of day. The good news is that pieces of it have been lifted and spread out in a couple of other chapters. Also, wow! Look at the size this chapter came out to! Woo!

So I wanna do some shout outs tonight, because good people need all the support they can get.

First, **rowanred81** , who burst onto the LiS scene barely two months ago, and has, in that time, written almost as many words as I have in over two years. I mean damn yo, they're a writing mo-chine! And it's damn good stuff, especially "Teenage Dirtbag" so check it out. I just wish I had more time to read.

Speaking of which, a shout-out to my good bud **RED78910** , who is a wiz at OC's. Really, some of the best realized and belivable original characters in the Mass Effect universe come from his Unsung War series, so check it out, okay?

 **valathe** , who wrote one of the best Elsanna stories I've read, Red Hair, Red Blood, which is one of the most realistic depictions of a touchy, contraversial subject. It was brought to my attention by another writer, **Szept** , who also does good, touchy stuff. But Val and I have had a blast potentially plotting out for an alternate ending/sequel to RHRB, so...maybe some day. It's all Szepts fault if it happens, just like it was his fault that A Power Greater Than My Own saw the light of day.

 **metaladdict** is a longtime member of my peanut gallery from the OMUTB days, and has started writing his first Fallout New Vegas fic, The Queen, The Monster, And The Child. I seriously need time to catch up on this one, but he does well, especially given that English is not his first language. I'm always up for life in the awesome New Vegas-verse!

And finally, I will NEVER NOT praise the work of my editorial Sistah-From-Another-Mistah **Corentin IV** , who has herself been struggling mightily these days with the Beast of Ar-El, which cruelly keeps her from working on her stupidly fantastic 22 Sinchi series. Soon, soon, precious, we wants it! :-D

Anyhow, have a great weekend, and stay frosty, chicky-boos.

 **7-28-15:** Now that Max's parent's names are cannon, per Episode 4, I decided to go back and edit this chapter appropriately. I almost didn't know, I kind of like Alex and Dahlia better (what **rowanred81** came up with.)


	6. Back To The Bay

_**A/N:**_ **Hang on there folks. You're going to want to pause and read Childhood's End (my short story, not the Clark novel :-) if you want to see what Max dreamed about. Although a familiarity with chapter 4 in LiS is fine, too.**

* * *

" _...I want this time with you to be my last memory. Do you understand? All you have to do is just crank up the IV to eleven."_

I rise up from the bed, drenched in a cold sweat, heart pounding. I didn't cry out, at least I don't think I did, but I feel like I must have.

I make my way into the tiny closet of the bathroom, splashing water on my face, and getting a glass to gulp down, letting the last lingering tendrils of anxiety evaporate. Slowly recovering from the avalanche of memories, things I'd barely forgotten slamming back into my awareness.

I sit down on the edge of the bed, staring down at the floor in contemplative thought. I don't even hear Chloe slide up onto her knees, but the warmth and closeness of her as she wraps herself around me from behind envelopes me completely. I give a soft shudder of pleasure, tense muscles relaxing, heart racing just a bit less, as I quickly reach up, thread my fingers through hers.

"Everything okay, baby?" she whispers out hoarsely, voice thick with sleep.

"I'm...it was just a nightmare. I'm okay, now. Much better." I give a soft little smile, pushing my back against her chest, leaning against her. She tilts my head up and kisses my lips, brushes her fingertips against my cheeks. The actual tears aren't there anymore, but I can feel her soothing away the emotional toil they've left behind.

"Tell me about it?" Asked not like a question, more an invitation. A reminder that since we're in it for the long haul now, we need to support each other.

I swallow hard, inhale sharply through my nose, and steel myself for the reply. "Are you sure you want to? It...it has to do with your Dad."

She pauses, laying her forehead against the back of my shoulder, before murmuring, "Wondered if it did. Especially after what happened last night. Sweetie, I know I was a shitty bitch to you after you first told me the story, but I just want you to know, I'm not angry anymore. That's all in the past. I understand why you couldn't...why you had to leave it be."

I make myself turn around and face her, placing my forehead against hers, reaching up combing my fingers through her violet locks. I can't chicken out of what I have to tell her next.

"There's more to it than what you know, Che. I only told you about how I saved your Dad. That it caused a timeline to be created where you became paralyzed, and that I undid it all to bring you back the way you were before. You didn't hear the rest of it. There are a lot of details that I just kind of..." I start to drift away, unable to complete the line of thought.

She pulls me back all the way into bed, lays is down together, and pulls the comforter over us. Cradles me in her arms and kisses my hair and forehead. "I didn't give you a chance. I went from zero to bitch in two seconds and kicked you out of my hospital room for a week."

I don't answer right away, choosing instead to snuggle in close against her, breathe in the scent of her skin. She's so warm right now, pressed up against me; it's soothing, down to my bones, like a sauna after a cold winter's day. Despite the maternal, protective quality of the moment, at the same time, my libido can't help but rev up, and I silently laugh at myself.

"Yeah. And I was so, so, so grateful when you started talking to me again that I just let it lie. And as the weeks and months went by, so many of my memories of that other timeline faded away. Repressed, may be a good way of describing it though. God. I swear, I remember remembering the details still, just a bit, when I told you, and then I remember not remembering until just now. Does...that make any sense to you?"

Continuing to stroke my back, she says, "Sweetie, from everything you've said and shown me, I think most people would be locked up in the loony bin for life afterwards. You're strong, baby. You're my SuperMax. But even _you_ have your limits. And maybe you have like...PTSD or something? Trauma?" She takes my hand, kisses the one she placed a ring upon not even twelve hours ago, and continues. "Just tell me everything you remember now, okay? Not gonna lie, it may be hard for me to hear, but if we're gonna be a married couple for real, we need to be together through the bad shit as well as the good."

I nod, and push back a wave of panic welling up in my throat. "Okay. You're right, you're...so I just told you a bit. You know, my shock, seeing you in that wheelchair. Feeling guilty, because it turns out I was a shitty friend in that timeline too. How you were paralyzed from the neck down, and in constant pain, and needed morphine all the time. But...oh, Chloe. Suddenly I can remember seeing how sad your parents were. They were trying their best to keep a brave front, but between the millions of dollars of care required, and...and what the doctors were saying...oh God, the toll it was taking on them."

"What the doctors were saying? Wouldn't they not have much more to tell'em, unless it was 'Hey, we figured out how to fix your daughter."? She gives a little laugh and I smile, just a little. Despite the punk attitude she's woven for herself from the anger and hardship of the past few years, there's still such an innocent naivete, one that withered and dropped off from Alternate Chloe. Not so much cynicism, but grimness.

And that was what I think upset me the most. Seeing that in her.

"It...it wasn't good, Che. It's not like the damage is done, and then life goes on forever, baby. Your spine snapped in half, and that...takes a toll."

Oh God. How do I tell her? How do I say the next part? I try to push the words out, and can't find the strength to cross that threshold. Not yet, anyway.

Chloe easily senses my hesitation, kisses my earlobe and whispers. "It's okay. Please. I need to hear it, Max."

It gives me the kick I need, and it comes out in a hurry, like a cork popping from a bottle. "You were dying, Chloe. You were dying. The doctors and your parents were trying to keep it from you, hoping for a miracle, that things would improve but...but a few weeks before we met again, you overheard them talk about it, when they thought you were knocked out. Your respiratory system was just...breaking down. It was only a matter of time. They may it sound like a year or two. Maybe just a few months, really."

Chloe lies still as she takes it in. I always wonder what it must be like to be in her shoes. To be told these fantastic stories, then have to take them all largely on faith. To hear about this other her, someone she'll never be or meet. Does she ever believe me with all of her heart, or is there still a niggling bit of doubt in the back of her mind? Somehow, the pictures came back with me, when I jumped all the way to the start of the cycle. I have no idea why, but I was able to at least prove to her I wasn't completely insane. Still, does it leave any room for doubt?

But I didn't have anything to show her, nothing left over from that particular alternate timeline. This was something Chloe was going to have to take completely at face value. It's almost a minute before I realize she hasn't said anything. She sees the fear well up in my eyes, and lays a comforting finger across my lips.

"I asked you to help me die, didn't I?"

My eyes go wide, and I feel like I've been roundhouse kicked in the head by reality.

"H-how could you know that?! How could you _possibly..._ "

She pulls my face to hers, kissing me hard and short, before answering. "Might be another Chloe, but she's still me, right? I just...I thought about what you just told me. About what I think *I* would do, if I was in that situation. My parents both drowning in debt, and I know I would have tried to keep fighting, keep surviving, as long as there was hope. But the minute it was obvious I was going down for good? I'd grip that bitch Death by the ribcage and tell it I if I was a dead woman, I'd die on my terms."

I bite down hard on my bottom lip, fresh tears welling anew.

She continues, "But she and I have had the same experience, you know? The girl from five years in our past suddenly arriving, right when we were both about to die. I remember, when I woke up from that coma, and I was super hella psyched I was alive. At the same time, I realized if I died, at least I would have had an amazing last memory. Same thing probably went through her head. She wanted to go out with one last happy day under her belt."

I start to tremble, shaking with sobs again.

She whispers out against my ear, more for my benefit than hers.

"What did you do?"

The only thing I could do was tell her, "W-what do you think I did?"

I prayed that she understood. That she'd figure it out, the same way she incredibly intuited the situation a couple minutes before. The look on her face told me everything I needed to know.

I started to lose it, my voice wet and warped, "Ch-che. What do I do? I forgot so much of that. I can't believe it, but I did! How could that happen? It fucking scares me! What if something's wrong with my brain? What if I'm going to lose my mind, and...and what if there's other shit that I'm suppressing, things a lot, _lot_ worse than that?"

She cocoons herself around me, and shh's softly. "It's okay. It's okay." She repeats. "It's okay, baby. I'm sorry, I don't know the answers to any of that. Kinda out of my league. But I know I love you, and I know nothing's going to change that. And I'm always going to be by your side, and you aren't alone in this." She squeezes me hard. "Whatever happens, we'll get through it together." She pulls back, so I can get a good look at her face, once I get the tears out of my eyes.

"We have to. 'Cause now that I tricked you into wearing that engagement ring, you legally own me. So you're stuck with me now, babydoll."

I shut my eyes tightly and start to laugh. The fear, and the sadness, and the giddy joy all smash together, jangling against my nerves. God, it hurts so much, but in the best way possible.

There isn't much talking that we do afterwards, at least not with words. One nightmare may be over, but there could be more to come. I don't know what's on the horizon...maybe nothing, maybe something that makes this look like a walk in the park. But I know I'm not afraid, as long as I have my Chloe by my side.

 _You call me the strong one...but what does it say when I call you my rock? Don't you ever sell yourself short, Chloe Price._

* * *

As the Princess Sparklefists Express pulls into the town limits, Chloe bops herself on the head with the flat of her palm.

"Can't believe we're back in Arcadia Bay, barely even three months later. God I feel like..."

I glance over towards her curiously, finishing up the rest of my smoothie from our last rest stop. "Like what, Che?"

"I don't know. Does it sound funny if I say 'a failure'? I just thought we'd never be coming back. Well no, not _never_ coming back, but just a lot, lot longer than three months. Like years. Like we'd be coming back years later, and you'd be this smart-as-balls college graduate, and I'd be this fabulous, famous tattoo artist, and there'd be a parade and all kinds of crazy shit."

I start to snicker, "With elephants and acrobats..."

She smiles wider, "Principal Wells would be there to personally apologize for being a dick to us."

"And there would be groupies lining the streets, whipping off their shirts and wanting you to tattoo your name across their chest."

She bites down on her lip and giggles, "Stop teasing me! Now I'm going to have to fight extra hard not to write 'Stay Hella, Love Chloe Price" the next time some woman comes in and wants me to ink her breasts."

I sit up, because this is a situation that had seriously not occurred to me before; I realize I see so little of Chloe in her professional life.

"Wait. You make it sound like this is something that happens to you all the time!"

"Not allll the time, but yeah, I've probably had to tattoo at least four or five women on the chest since I started. Usually on one or both breasts" She smiles with exaggerated lewdness.

I playfully slap her shoulder. "You pig!"

"Baby, please! I'm super professional about it! It's just another customer, and I'm working on just another canvas. Besides, I pretend all the chests I ink are yours."

I shake my head, smiling from ear to ear. "I don't know if that makes me infuriated or delighted." I then feel a hot blush run across my face and neck.

Chloe glances over at me for a moment, before turning her attention back to the road. "Ohhhhhh daaaamn. You're thinking about it!"

"Th-thinking about what?" I say, as I shift in my seat.

"About me tattooing you some more. Liiiike maybe on the chest..."

"Shut up! I-I...I so totally..." I groan and give up trying to fight it. "...am." I polish off the rest of my drink, and toss the container in the little trash bucket on the floor. "Damnit, you won't be happy until I'm as inked up as you."

"Maaaaybe more." she sing-songs.

"Anyhow, remember: we're only here because The Man won't let us have a shiny, shiny motorcycle without a license. And we have to come back to our legal state of residence. It's not a failure or whatever the hell weird thing you're worrying about. It's a stop on the road to continued awesomeness."

Chloe gently pounds on the steering wheel, "Yeah! You're right!"

I quickly add, "But be a good girl and tell your Mom you missed her, too. Just a little. Okay? She'd really like that."

Shaking her head and laughing, Chloe says, "God. We really are like an old married couple now, aren't we?"

Still, I can't help but feel a small, giddy rush when we pull up to Joyce and David's house. I swear, I spent more time here growing up as a kid than I did at my folks house when we still lived in Arcadia Bay. Then when I returned, it became a haven, in so many different ways, down so many different timelines. It's clear that the extra money Joyce came into has been put to good use; the paint on the house is finally taken care of, for one thing. And a few small bits of sprucing up here and there. Hell, the mortgage might be finally close to being paid off, and that would put a lot of money back into their pockets as well.

Joyce and David are there to meet us, smiling and waving. They look good. I'd never tell Chloe this in a million years, but maybe fleeing the nest and giving them weeks and months to reconnect, free of their daughter's involvement, was a good thing for them. Chloe's sooo in a better place now, and I'd like to think maybe David is too. They don't hug, but they shake hands, and he even smiles when he sees her.

"Congrats, you two. Um. We're really happy for you both." And you know, I think he actually means it. I honestly have no clue how he feels about same-sex relationships; I'm going to guess he wasn't exactly a fan, starting out, but he's managed to come around to a comfortable acceptance. That's okay, at least that's a good start. There are so many different ways it could go, horrible ones, that I'll take a quiet, if unenthusiastic peace, over outright disdain any day.

I actually give him a hug; I think it surprises us both. Probably me more than him. Those days when we were antagonists don't exist for him. In his mind, I'm the shy art student who saved his step-daughter's life ending at the hands of a gun wielding sicko. I've seen him at his worst, but I've also seen more of him on his good days. The decent man inside trying to exist in the present moment. As much as I may wish for it to be William, he's going to be my father-in-law someday, and I think outside of the context of having to deal with each other in Blackwell, we could get along just fine.

(I hope)

Joyce is ebullient, wants to see the ring immediately. Crushes me with what feels like a thousand hugs. This has got to be a bit of a dream come true for her, in a way. I like to think she always saw me as a second daughter, someone who was good for her own, and that she deeply cared for. I suppose I was always part of the family, in her mind, but this just seals the legal deal. That, and if Chloe and I are going to settle down together, that just makes it more likely one of us will get choose to get pregnant eventually, and then Joyce'll be a grandma, and then...

(GAH! Note to self: It is way too soon to even _think_ about that kind of thing. Abort! Abort!)

We move immediately to dinner, the final few fingers of light stretching out in low, long slats across the street as we make our way inside the house, silently broadcasting the change in the season.

October in Arcadia Bay...shit. Why did we come back now?

Damnit, I'm not sure how I'm going to handle being here. We'll definitely be staying long enough to run into the year anniversary of That Peculiar Week. Old ghosts of the past nip at my heels already.

Fuck it, you know what? I'm here, and it's time to make good memories, to banish the old.

Those good memories start with Joyce's home cooking: chicken and waffles. Ridiculously Southern for the Pacific Northwest, but holy shit does she make them sooooo good. I feel like a total pig, but I seriously have seconds. I might have even considered thirds, but there's pecan pie coming as well. Guess it's a theme night tonight.

Confession time: I was expecting there to be some stress. A feeling of unease, like we were interloping on their territory. Or maybe Chloe and David would start back up again with the old friction, but it was...

...it was nice. Like we're all so adult.

"So Chloe, Joyce tells me you're training to be a tattoo artist."

It's asked earnestly, that much I can tell. Still, I tense for a moment, as I gaze over to see how Chloe takes it. Because I can sense the wheels working in her brain, as she tries to make the call: is his question an honest conversation starter? Or an opening gambit to a whole spiel about how she needs to make more out of her life?" Her eyes start to narrow, reflexively...

...and then stop.

She was good to her word, about Angry Blue Chloe being a thing of the past. She actually smiles. Like, I can't remember the last time - or a first time - when she smiled like that to him and says, "Yup. No real schools or licensing for this sort of thing, but with the RV, it lets us be really flexible, you know? I made contacts with some really quality people in the biz, and while I'm barely making anything right now, I'm getting a ton of experience. Building up a portfolio. 'Cause you know uh...I gotta pay the dues. But, uh, yeah. Yeah, this is what I want out of life, at least for now, and this is how I get there."

This is more like the Chloe I remember. The hard working, academic girl from our early teen years. I mean, she's grown up. She's still a crazy, sexy, punk stoner, but she's taking a lot of that out-of-control anger and frustration and focusing it.

I reach under the table and squeeze her hand, as if to tell her: I knew you could do it. I'm proud, of you, baby.

The conversation falls into an easy groove between the two of them from that point on. He asks her questions about what she does, about tattooing in general, how safe is it, how do they keep things clean. Could he see her work sometime?

And Chloe is a pro already; she absolutely loveloveloves talking about this stuff with people. Joyce and I just smile at each other as we watch them converse.

Chloe laughs lightly at one point, "Geeze, David, you aren't thinking of getting one yourself, are you?"

He chuckles, actually laughs himself, and rubs the back of his head nervously. "As a matter of fact, uh, some of the guys from my old unit and I are gonna have a reunion. Thinking of getting something to mark the occasion, to remember the bond we all share."

Chloe swallows her mouthful of pie. "Oh! Wow, yeah. Hey, that would be awesome! I mean, I don't know...if you're asking _me_ if I could do it. I probably need a few more weeks of training before I feel confident to work solo, but...well, there's one shop in town, and we might talk them into letting me work for them for a little while or something and..."

"That's okay, it won't be for a while yet. Probably not until next Summer. Plenty of time."

I rise up and start to clear the dishes. "Well, if you two boys will excuse me, I'll just let you talk shop while I clean the table up." I gently wave Joyce's hands away. "S'okay. I've got it. You just sit down and enjoy." We smile sweetly to each other, and I drift into the kitchen, carefully washing dishes and silverware in the sink.

Joyce calls out, "Why don't I make us all some coffee!" and then walks into the kitchen, leaving Chloe and David to continue chatting away. She then hugs me tightly from behind as I continue to work. After she lets me go, and starts working in earnest to brew a pot of decaf, she murmurs, "Would you just look at them, Max? I mean, he's never going to replace William. He knows that, he's not trying, but just _look_ at the two of them together, talking." She shakes her head, and she wipes at an eye briefly. "Something tells me I have you to thank for all this."

I laugh low, still smiling. "Chloe just needed..uh...a purpose in life, I guess? I mean, I could try and take her to the river, but she had to decide she wanted to drink. Plus, almost dying...sorry to bring that up again, Joyce, but that changes a person. Makes them appreciate what they're doing with their life. Just saying, make sure you give Chloe her props too, because she's a hell of a woman."

"Oh, Max Caulfield, I don't need you to tell me what I know already." She turns, cocks her hips against the counter. "And for the record, young lady, you don't call me Joyce any longer?"

I can't my head to the side as I continue to scrub one of the plates. "Oh?"

"Nu-uh. It's Mom, now. Momma, if you're feeling partial to the notion. I mean hell, you've been my other daughter for years now. This just makes it official."

I look down into the sink, feeling self-conscious, but my smile grows by leaps and bounds. "Ah...kay. Hee. It's gonna take time to get used to, but I'll do my best..." I pause and try it on for size. "Mom."

She gives me a bit of a look, and I amend to, "Momma."

Okay. That actually doesn't feel half bad!

"Speaking of which, J-...omma.". I lay a hand on hers. "Thank you. That was so so sweet. I mean with the engagement ring and..." I then hold my hand back up to my face and just sort of hug it close.

She starts to fuss at my hair, like she's noticed for the first time that I dyed it black. "Hmmm, seems someone's been an influence on you, much as you've been on them. Still, suits you." Switching back onto track, Joyce says, "Oh, sweetie. William, he, ah..you know. He would have wanted it that way. Demanded it. Better to have it on your finger, living life, than sitting in an old jewellery box, a relic of the past...no matter how treasured it's been." She put the pot to brew, and added, "Plus, beyond the nicer sentimental reasons, it's money that daughter of mine doesn't have to spend. I love her, but I'm sure she wouldn't have a lick of sense when it comes to buying a proper engagement ring. Which reminds me: I hate to ask, but you're not here because of money issues, are you hon?" She glances towards the dining area, and murmurs, "It's not about you, but I know Chloe and money management aren't the best of friends..."

I laugh brightly, maybe a little too loudly, and clamp a hand over my mouth. "No! No, we're good. I mean, we're not rolling in dough, but we have enough that I've set aside a starter nest egg for the future...I made her agree to that before we started off on our little adventure. And um...aaactualllllly...the main reason we're here is because we think we're going to buy a motorcycle to add to the RV. But we need to get licensed up first."

She steps back and looks me over. I wouldn't say that she's disappointed, but she does cover her eyes, as if she's overcome with fatigue and murmurs, "Oh girls. I know you're young, and you feel like you need to cut wild, but..."

I hold up a hand to gently interrupt, "It's okay, Mom, I swear! I wouldn't be doing this if we didn't have the money to spare. Because..." I turn away, and focus on cleaning a bowl, "Chloe won thirty grand in Vegas. And I'm making sure that at least a few thousand of that went into our nest egg."

Joyce coughs hard for a moment, like she swallowed the wrong way. "Good lord!"

"Joyce, you all right?" David's voice calls out.

"Just fine, honey! Just..." she drifts back towards me and hisses, "Thirty grand! How in God's name did...do I even want to know?!"

I casually wave a dismissive hand. "No biggie. She just took a thousand dollars of the money you gave her and bet it on roulette."

Joyce white knuckles one of the mugs she pulls down from the cabinet. "But...but she's not twenty-one!"

I shrug, "I don't know how it works in other casinos, but the Luxor on a Saturday night is surprisingly lax about checking id's."

"And they didn't ask for anything when you suddenly came up and try to cash in all those chips?"

Proceeding to the towel drying, I answer, "Well no, but mostly because we didn't try that. I made her take all the chips back to our RV, freaked out all over her for pulling such a crazy ass stunt, and then figured out that if we spent the next seven days cashing in small amounts, we'd get away with it. I even put aside enough for taxes, if-slash-when it comes up."

Giving a soft sigh, Joyce says, "Oh Max. I suppose girls will be girls. I'm just glad...you just keep a tight rein on Chloe, okay? I'm counting on you."

I laugh and lean in to kiss her cheek, "Yes, Momma. I promise, I'm breaking her in like an untamed stallion...or something." I then quickly switch topics, "Tell you what, we're not going to be here much longer than a week or two, I think. How about I take over some shifts from you at the Two Whales, starting tomorrow? You still work afternoon-evening on Tuesdays, right? I'll even slip you the pay back."

She blinks."Darlin', you do NOT need to work at the diner, let alone for free, while you're here visiting!"

Again, I shrug, "But I want to. I like the people at the diner, and I figured it would be nice for you and Chloe to spend time together. It's um...I figure what a good daughter-in-law is for, right?"

She shakes her head emphatically and gives me one last big hug. "How did we end up with someone as sweet as you in this family?"

I return it, then put the remaining dishwashing aside to help plate the coffee cups, and murmur, with a little glint in my eye. "I don't know. If I'm playing the long con, it better be a good one, huh?" She pinches my side playfully and I give a giggle, before we bring the coffee out.

* * *

"Wow, that was...really nice." Chloe says, still incredulous at how well she and David got along at dinner, both of us lying back on her bed in her old room. Her parents both had been making noises about reclaiming the space someday soon, but for now, that last sacred piece of childhood is still here, still waiting to enfold us, give us sanctuary.

"Don't be so shocked. People change. You've changed, certainly. The nature of your relationship's changed with him. There isn't all this anger and drama between the two of you, and despite his faults, your step-dad can be an okay guy."

The words still feel strange coming out of my mouth. There was a time when Chloe would constantly complain about "the step-douche" and I'd be right there at her side, egging her on. It's so different from the dark and twisted path we all took together before I wiped it all out; the images of David, broken and defeated, kicked out of the house, swim up in my head, but I quickly banish them.

I don't want to deal with it. Maybe someday, but not tonight.

Frankly, I'd be happy if I never, ever remembered all those shitty times, ever again.

"Yeah. I guess. I don't know why this keeps surprising me though. Life is strange sometimes, you know?"

I just roll my eyes. "Not that strange."

Chloe begins to pull at he hair in frustration, "Yeah but...ugh! I was such a rebel not that long ago. Part of me feels like I'm not being true to myself if I don't stay angry, you know, even though I know that's bullshit. But God, I feel like such a fucking grown-up adult right now. Can we do something about this, please? Like right now?"

"Have you tried bringing a little more 'hella' back into your vocabulary?"

She gives me a playful kick, "Smart ass."

"Fine Little Miss Hope-I-Die-Before-I-Get-Old. Why don't we get hellllaaaa stoned, find a late night movie playing somewhere, something terrible we don't really want to watch, so we can curl up in the back and make out."

"Ohhhhhhh!" Chloe says, with a little bit of a purr. "Would there be heavy petting?"

"I'll be rather disappointed if you don't at least attempt some mild to moderate fingerbanging, so I sure as hell hope so!"

Chloe bursts out laughing, rises up and grabs my hand, pulling me to the door. "You had me at hella, baby. You had me at hella."

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ Heyyy look at that. I actually managed to get a new chapter in. I forgot how easy and even therapeutic writing fluff can be. Plus I've been so crazy with writing chapters ahead of time for Black Swan, I could take a little time on this. Still probably gonna be a bit slow updating this series, but as you can see, I haven't forgotten my fluff fandom either. :-)


	7. Echos Of The Past

_**A/N:**_ Hey guys! Just put this here because I wanted to catch folks' attention. Make sure you read the author notes at the end!

* * *

Morning came far too quickly; Chloe and I went to see some agonizingly dreadful flick called Addicted which was about...sex? And people...addicted...oh hell, I honestly can't remember, because it was exactly the kind of film that you go with your girlfriend...

...oh! I mean to say fiancee. Hee!

Anyhow, it's the kind of movie you go with your special someone so that you can sneak off in the back and make out, without having to worry about if you're missing something good. Believe me, I was much more interested in the erotica unfolding in the seat right next to mine than any that might have been happening on screen.

Although, it did get a little embarrassing near the end, when one of the bouncers caught us being a little too frisky; fortunately, the most flagrantly sexual phase of our bout of PDA had passed - the kind that involved hands and fingers underneath clothing and underwear - and instead they came across the two of us in the...umm...shall we say afterglow portion, cuddling and kissing. Although, Chloe nibbling on my ear and neck is probably what made them take note as they were passing by.

(Note to self: Gotta wear a scarf or put some cover up on my neck before going to work at the diner today!)

Still, as semi-mortifying as the getting caught part was, the exchange itself was absolutely hilarious to us. At the time. I mean, it probably helped we were still a little stoned.

"Miss! You and your boyfriend are going to have to calm yourselves down, or I'll have you removed from the movie!". Is what the dour, heavyset older woman patrolling the aisles hissed angrily at me.

(Also, can you believe it? Bouncers patrolling a theater? Who does that anymore? Well...I guess small town Arcadia Bay, but still...)

A minute or two later, after Chloe stopped pretending to be perfectly still and frozen, she couldn't hold it back any more and simply burst out laughing, pulling me along as we quickly rushed out of the theater. Her laughter was bright, infectious, a perfect counterpoint to the ever lengthening nights of the Autumn, to the lingering chill that seemed to eternally grip Arcadia Bay since That One Particular Week in October Last Year, a chill which had never fully dissipated.

Pushing me up against the truck, Chloe stole another hungry kiss from me, and leaned in, still giggling. "Oh! Oh God! Boyfriend? I know I butch it up a little, but that lady had to be hella blind!"

Smiling brightly, my fingers running riot through her violet locks, I murmur, "Oh, I don't know. You make an adorable boyfriend. What, you know...with your awesome boobs and everythi-"

I can't finish the sentence, because I'm laughing too hard now.

You'd think after months of riding on the road, and having sex in our own little private space, whenever we want, at the drop of a hat, coupled with having to be incredibly responsible with things like time management, budgeting, making our own meals, and dressing ourselves with a relatively high degree of accuracy, we'd be a lot more mature than we've been tonight. But something about coming back to Arcadia Bay, to that place of our childhoods, seems to bring out the giggly teenage girls in both of us.

Not exactly a bad thing; Chloe and I never got a chance to spend the majority of our teenage years together, crushing out on each other and then embracing the eventual realization that we were falling in love. As absolutely overjoyed and delighted we are to finally have each other now, I must admit it makes me kind of sad that we missed out on that opportunity. There's an ache in my heart, for everything that I let slip through my fingers, almost for good, for those five years we fell out of touch.

Those missing years we can never get back.

Ugh...God. I'm too damn young to be this fucking maudlin.

Anyhow, long story short, Chloe and I...shall we say, mayhaps tarried overlong. Despite the Bay being totally dead on a weeknight, we've always been good at making our own fun, enjoying the company of just the two of us together. Especially when you've got a pen full of awesome grade hash oil, the full moon, the sand and the surf, and a nice big sleeping bag to snuggle under until two in the morning. Which is when we finally dragged our asses back home.

So. Yeah. If I don't want to be a shitty future daughter-in-law, I need to pay the piper. Ouch.

Still, I've done this enough times that it's old hat, and I can at least run on autopilot long enough to get to the Two Whales, with its blissful promise of all the free coffee I can drink.

My old uniform's still in the closet in Chloe's room (Chloe's Chloset?). After the world's quickest, coldest shower, and just enough makeup to get the job done, I rush down the stairs, throw a cold muffin into my face, grab the keys to Joyce's car - bless her for letting me borrow it - and zoom off towards the diner, dashing in with just minutes to spare. Not exactly how I wanted to start the day - that is, sleep deprived, and a little strung out from too much hash oil and sex - but I've been through worse.

Okay, maybe the only example of 'worse' I can think of right now was being shot, but that never not counts.

Just ask poor Chloe.

I dash in behind the counter, and wave to Chris, the manager on duty: a thin, wiry guy in his early thirties who immediately settled for this position for some reason, despite his two years getting an Associates Degree in Management at the local community college. Thank God it's someone I know; I'd hate to have to try and explain my entire backstory to someone new, and why Joyce isn't here today, but that's the advantage to a small town like this one, I suppose; not a hell of a lot ever changes, especially in a place like the Two Whales Diner.

Still, he's clearly not expecting me; to be perfectly blunt, I don't think he even recognizes me. I can only imagine what could have been going on in his head, expecting Joyce to appear, and a young punkette with black and green hair appears instead, dressed in a uniform and clearly acting like she's not only familiar with the place - I immediately gravitate to the coffee machine in the back and gulp down a cup of dark roast - but is getting ready to hit the floor for a shift.

Before he can say a word, I give him my best smile. "Hi Chris! Been a few months! You're probably wondering why I'm here instead of Joyce today."

His mouth pauses in mid-opening, as realization starts to dawn on him.

"M-Max? Oh...well goodness sakes, you sure confused the hell out of me. Didn't even recognize you! Um. Uh - are you wanting your old job back? I'm sorry, but we went and hired another part timer, because we all thought you were moving out of town, and..."

I laugh lightly and start to shake my head, smiling when I'm not wincing from how bitter the coffee burning my mouth is. "No no no. Nothing like that. Chloe and I are just visiting; thought that Joyce would like some time together with her, so I'm picking up her shift. No need to pay me, just put it in her paycheck like you normally would. I might be back one or two more times over the next couple of weeks as well.

Chris just blinked. "Wh-what? Huh. My...well that's unusual! At...least keep her tips, or something? I mean...you deserve something. You're doing her work."

Flexibility in the face of sudden change was never one of Chris' strong suits. Don't get me wrong, the guy's plenty friendly, but I always suspected he had just a bit too much OCD. Situation changes too much, and it throws him off his game.

Still, I grin and shake my head. "Nope! Don't worry. Like I said, just pretend I'm Joyce, simple as that. I realize it's unusual, but it's only for two or three shifts."

Starting to roll with the change in program, he writes down some sort of note to himself on his clipboard, and murmurs, "Always were a sweetheart, Max. Don't tell Joyce I said anything, but I always suspected she'd be happy enough to trade her daughter for you."

I shake my head, give a laugh, and say, "Well, she doesn't have to pick between either of us. She can call us both her daughters." And with that, I hold out my left hand, the one with the ring finger. Also, the arm with the sleeve tattoo.

I'm not sure which aspect flusters and confuses him more: that dependable, reliable, hard working, ultra-trustworthy Max Caulfield, darling of the Two Whales staff for almost six months, has suddenly fallen prey to the Chloe side of the Force, or the fact that she and I are getting married. Don't get me wrong, Chris is a nice enough guy; very salt of the Earth though. He won't be winning any Nobel Prizes, and too much change clearly unnerves him, but he never, not once, has ever done or said anything to make me feel uncomfortable about my relationship with her. I mean, maybe he's got feelings about homosexuality in general...clearly it's not for him, and the notion on a general level might unnerve him for all I know. She and I have been surrounded by such amazing and enthusiastically supportive people over the last few months that it's sometimes hard to grok that there are people out there who...just don't know what to make about two girls or two guys being in a committed and loving relationship.

But given that he's never changed his attitude towards me or given me the cold shoulder over it, I can only assume that he's the sort of person who figures that as long as it's not picking his pocket or breaking his leg, it's not worth being a dick about. And you know what? That's fine. That's just fine by me. I don't need him to legitimately gush or celebrate my engagement.

I just need him to treat me like a human being who's good at her job. And that's exactly what he does.

"Ohhhhh. You and Chloe are...are getting married? Well...congrats! I'm sure you'll be a good influence on her, Max." he says, smiling, although the wary stares at my hair and tattoo suggest he feels otherwise.

I grab a pad and pencil from one of the nearby supply trays, take one last gulp of coffee, as I feel the caffein start to take away the worst of my sluggishness, and announce in a chipper tone of voice. "Welp, I'm sure the song and dance hasn't changed since the Spring, right? Time to go out there and help those folks get their grub on."

This does prompt a genuine bit of amusement from him, and he calls out, as I start to make my way out the kitchen, "Good to have you back Max, even if just for a day or two!"

The morning starts off light and easy, thank God for Wednesdays. By the time the first cup of coffee kicks in, I'm comfortably, even pleasantly functional, content with the notion that this is probably going to be an uneventful enough day; after all, most of the Blackwell people I knew already graduated, and took off to lives of their own.

Except, of course, Justin and Trevor; both a year behind me, walk through the door, clearly looking to get their grub on before, or between classes. I give them a big smile and a friendly wave, but they don't seem to notice, short of giving a perfunctory nod.

 _D-dude. What the fuck? Are you guys ghosting me? I mean, we hung out a fair amount, especially after Chloe got out of the hospital and shit. So now what's the deal...oh!_

It strikes me: they probably have no idea who I am, other than an overly caffeinated new waitress looking to get her tips on. Of _course_ the Max they know wouldn't have black hair with green bangs. And she'd _never_ have a sleeve tattoo!

Heh. Let's have a little fun with this, shall we? A game of 'How long will it take you two stoners to figure out it's me?', extra difficult mode.

With an exaggerated swagger and bump to my step, I pull out the pencil from behind my ears, lift it up to my pad, and speak.

"So what kin I getchew boys?"

Now you have to understand, I've just put on this atrocious "diner gal" accent, that sort of ditzy Brooklyn-meets-Mid-Atlantic (I think?) tone from like a million years in the past; except that I mostly end up sounding like a bad clone of Columbia from Rocky Horror.

This does get Justin and Trevor's attention; I figure it'll just be a few seconds before even their weed addled brains clue in; I mean hell, we smoked up together a fair enough, you'd think that would like...um...count for SOMEthing?

Justin, however, acts as if his brain's completely short circuited. He stares at me, as if I'm merely some sort of hallucination his mind has conjured. Takes him a couple seconds, but he asks, "Whoa. Are you...like new?"

"Me? Oh-yeh, sweetie. Just gawt into towen last week. I don't really waitress for a livin', I'm just payin' the bills until I finally get that sing-ging career off the ground at last!". Trevor is covering up his mouth, trying not to laugh, because...seriously? I'm a bad singer to begin with, but now I must look like I'm someone totally hella delusional right now.

"So whatzit gonna be, boys?" I ask again.

"Uh, yeah." Justin starts. "I'll have a couple of poached eggs on rye toast, and a cup of coffee.

Trevor barely comports himself as he adds his own order. "Biscuits and sausage gravy sounds good. Yeah, coffee for me too Oh, and a English muffin with butter."

Order collected, I strut in a fashion that would probably distract the hell out of poor Chloe if she were here to witness it, slip up the check into the rack and call out, in a slightly too loud voice to the line cook on duty.

"Chaaa-lee! I need two cups of mud, Adam and Eve on a raft, A heart attack on a rack, and burn the British in the alley with extra axle grease!"

The thing you have to know about Chuck Finch is this: he secretly loves old timey broadway musical movies. In fact, he's got this whole nostalgia fetish for the ninteen-fifties in general, and he taught me a bunch of old-timey diner kitchen lingo over the course of some really slow shifts. He could never, not ever get any of the waitresses to humor him with it. So this makes him hella joyful.

I lean in and murmur to him. "Don't get too attached, I'm just doing this to mess with some friends of mine who are too wasted to recognize me." I toss him a wink and then go about taking a few more orders. I realize too late that if I'm going to really commit, I'm stuck committing all the way, and need to carry on the "ditzy waitress with stars in her eyes routine.", at least until I decide to break it to Cheech and Chong - or until they figure it out themselves.

One of the cops, a regular who knows me, and unlike the Brothers Stoner-motzov, has quickly figured out that yes, it's still Max Caulfield under the raven dye and body ink, is looking at me like I'm absolutely insane in the damn membrane. Before he can speak up and ruin...whatever this has become, I lean in and whisper, "I'm fine, Officer Franks. Just having some fun with a couple of friends. You want your usual?"

Fifteen minutes later, and the orders are up. I finally decide it's time to drop the charade. After laying out the plates and cups, I reach around and smack each of them behind the head and murmur in my normal voice, low enough just for their ears, albeit with a shit-eating grin, "The fuck, space cases? You guys so high you can't even recognize your homegirl?"

Oh God. The looks. On their faces. So priceless! Shit, I wish I'd brought my camera, because it was a once in a lifetime shot.

"Jesus...Max? What th'...hell? Is that you? D-damn, girl! Looks like Chloe's totally turned you into her clone. Ha ha! How are you?"

There's enough of a lull in the crowd that I'm able to spare at least a few minutes catching up. They don't have much news for me, other than they're obviously enjoying senior year at school. They eventually notice the ring on my finger, and naturally ask about it.

"Damn, you two are getting married? Awesome...totally awesome." Justin exclaims. "Are we invited to the wedding?"

"Sure!" I respond and with a smile add, "I mean, you assholes were probably just going to crash it anyhow, right?"

"Screw the wedding, I wanna be invited to the honeymoon!" Trevor pipes up.

Ugh! God. Men. Boys! Jesus Christ...

I kick at his chair and mutter, "Shit, I should tell Dana you said that."

They both glance away from me, exchanging a sad, nervous look between each other soon after.

"Oh. Damn. Didn't turn into a happily ever after thing, huh? Well, yeah. Say no more. Anyhow, I'll forgive your bro-hole comments. Either of you maniacs feel like hanging out this weekend?"

"Yeah! You got our numbers and everything, right?" Justin asks.

I nod. "Yup! And..." I lean in, "We still have goodies from the land of milk and honey; Denver. So no more cracks about our sexuality, and we'll share. Now, you excuse me, I gotta get to the next couple tables filling up"

That's enough to shut them up and get emphatic nods. Trevor even smiles slightly and offers a lame, but heartfelt, "Sorry."

"See ya soon, Maxima Damage! Killer tats!" Justin calls out, tapping his left arm appropriately.

* * *

The next hour passes uneventfully, and I'm just about to take off for a fifteen minute break when who should walk in the door but...

"...Kate?"

Kate Marsh! Who doesn't look like she's changed a bit. Okay, wait, that's not entirely true. She still dresses modestly, and her hair is neatly put up, but...there's a new radiance about her. She doesn't have this dour attitude like before. I mean, the cross is still there, and I'm still going to assume she's kept the faith, even after all the terrible stuff that happened with her parents and family last year - although no small amount of that was ameliorated by Nathan's capture and confession. But still, shit that you just can't take back was said to her, by people she loved.

She does a double take, clearly not recognizing me at first. I give her a smile, and a wave, and then it finally kicks in for her.

"Max...Caulfield? Oh my gosh! Hi! How are you?! Goodness, I didn't even recognize you! It seems a certain someone has been rubbing off on you."

We hug close and smile. She and I had remained good friends, got even closer sitting vigil with Chloe during her coma. I'd done my best to try and stay in touch with her via email after we left, but I'm rather embarrassed to admit I didn't get more than a couple of messages out to her. And left her last reply hanging.

God, I suck at maintaining long distance friendships!

"Ha ha! Yeah...yeah, I guess you could say that. I'm...I'm good. Great! C'mon, sit, I got a few minutes before I go back on my shift. Wow! Hi...so...so what are you doing here? I thought you were going to college. Or was that you were looking at colleges...or?" I lead her over to one of the booths off to the rear.

"Sorry, I know I haven't been great at keeping in touch." I add. "Some habits die hard."

She smiles happily. "It's alright. It sounds like your life has been hectic, not to mention exciting for you and Chloe. Traveling around in that RV of yours. I'm surprised to see you back in town though. Pleasantly, of course! I mean...everything's okay?" she asks, giving me the cutest smile of genuine concern.

"Oh, yeah. Fine. Great!" I say, waving away with a hand. "Uhhhm. We wanted to buy a motorcycle in San Francisco, found out you need a special cycle license, so we're back in town. Chloe's going to go out later today, sign us up for lessons. A couple weeks, and then we're out of here, I guess. I'm just being nice and taking a few shifts for Joyce so she can Chloe can spend time together."

Kate shakes her head once, the easy smile not having left her lips. "Max, that's what I love about you. You're always trying to do good for others, without any gain for yourself. That's so sweet."

This prompts a blush from me, and a shrug. "Yeah well...uh. I mean. It beats the alternative, right? So how about you? You graduated and everything. I figured you'd probably leave Arcadia Bay and never look back."

"Oh! Well, I did get into college. I was thinking about studying theology at Francis Xavier, but then I changed my mind. I'm going to be studying English at Amherst College. I figured it was the best path to take, if I'm serious about trying to write. That, and there's this wonderful children's book museum that Eric Carle founded, barely four miles away from campus. I just took that as a sign that this was the place I should attend, and since they have such a large endowment, there were some very generous scholarship grants that made going there feasible."

I blink, wondering at first why the name of the place sounds so familiar; then it hits me.

"Oh shit!" I cover my mouth with my fingers. "Sorry..."

Kate laughs, shaking her head, and bides me to continue.

"Kate, that's right next door to where I'm going to school. Literally the next town over."

She gives a soft smirk, nodding. "Yes. I know. I decided to defer a year, just like you did, so that I have some time to do a little traveling and gain some more life experience. I'm actually about to start a stint with Habitat for Humanity in one of the neighboring towns, and then work my way out East. You might almost say I was inspired by you, in that regard."

This causes me to blush, and then stammer out, "W-well. I'm just glad that Chloe and I will have a good friend nearby when we finally settle down." I glance down at my hand, and then giggle. "Oh! And...and speaking of settling down." I hold my hand out, with the goofiest, most sparkling smile I can produce, showing off the ring.

She gently takes my hand in hers, studying it for a few seconds, and then favors me with one of the warmest looks I think I've ever seen her give. She reaches across the table and pulls me into a close hug. "Oh...Max! I am so...just so happy for you. You and Chloe. Congratulations! I mean, I'm not surprised; once I had a chance to see the two of you together, it seemed like it was just a matter of time."

I nod. "We haven't exactly started planning the wedding but...but you're invited, of course. Totally! Ummm..." I start to fiddle nervously with my hair, rubbing the fingertips of my other hand against the table. "I was even...well I mean normally, I'd ask if...if you wanted to be the Maid of Honor, but I know...you know, you're not, ugh!" I stop, then try again. "I realize that might make you uncomfortable."

She shakes her head. "No. No it wouldn't make me uncomfortable at all, Max. And if the offer is still open, I would absolutely be honored. No pun intended." She smirks at this.

"Wow. Really? I mean...I mean, Kate! That's great! Thank you. I was just...I didn't want to be disrespectful, you know. You're not pushy about it, but I know your faith means a lot to you."

She nods slowly, almost sagely. "A year or two ago, I might have been much more - um - conflicted about it. But I've been doing a lot of thinking. A lot of reflecting, when I've prayed, at home, in church. Thinking about the love I was shown, as well as the scorn and judgement that was cast my way, after what happened last year. I came to realize that God was trying to show me something, something very important. About the true nature of love, and family: the ones that we choose and the ones that He chooses for us."

Kate takes a deep breath and then continues. "I spent a lot of time trying to reconcile the beliefs of my faith, or at least the beliefs held by a lot the followers, with what I saw between you and Chloe, and people in relationships like your own. I spent even more time going over the Bible again and again, reading over what Christ taught, looking for answers and meaning. And I realized a simple truth: He said nothing at all specifically condemning same-sex relationships. But he did say so much about love! After our love for God, we must love our neighbors as we would ourselves. In Matthew, Christ says that all of the Law and the Prophets hang upon these two commandments."

She bows her head for a moment. "I can't say whether your relationship with Chloe is 'right' or not. That's not for me to judge. Only God can do so. But...but I see the love that you and she share. How much you mean to each other, and how much that love shapes and guides your heart, how it runs over and touches the people around you. I see how devoted you are to each other, how you support one another. And then I look at some of the married couples in my church. The...the meanness. The backbiting. Catiness. The masks they wear. But you and Chloe are so free, open with your love."

Reaching out for my hand, Kate holds it, "I was there. I saw you at her side, both in the hospital, and during her recovery. The love in your hearts is a good and pure thing, and I simply can't believe that Christ wouldn't look favorably upon it. Maybe neither of you walk along His path but...but I have to believe that you walk alongside it. Certainly a closer than a lot of other people who say they follow Him."

I reach up, brushing away a few tears. "Kate, that...that's so sweet." I bite down on my lip. "Thank you, just...thanks. I really wish a lot more devout people were like you. You know?"

Because seriously, if the Church were peopled by a buttload of Kate clones, this Christianity thing would look pretty damn attractive to me.

She shrugs good naturedly. "If the path He laid out for us was an easy one to walk, then salvation wouldn't be so precious, Max. All I can do is try and spread the Good Word by example."

I squeezed her hand tightly. "Well...well this is just gonna fucking rock! Oooh!" I cover up my mouth with my hand, blushing furiously. "Sorry Kate! So look, I gotta get back to work. Tell me what you want, and it's gonna be my treat, okay?"

Kate ordered some chocolate chip pancakes. We chatted idly a little bit longer, with a promise to sit down and spend some quality time with me and Chloe, before she finally headed off, but not without giving me at least one more tight hug.

 _A_ _www...geeze_ _. Well that was really nice! I can't believe she's going to be going to school in the same county as me. Man, college is going to totally rock now!_

* * *

"Wow! That was really nice. Man, Kate is like the world's most hella awesome Christian. She's the Super-Christian or something!"

I groan slightly, covering up my face with my hand as we drive along in her old truck, Chloe having just picked me up a minute or two ago. As much as it pains us...well, her especially, she's already looking to find someone that she can sell it to, probably for a song. We had a lot of good times and memories in this thing, but it's taking up space at the house, and certainly Joyce and Dave could use the room. But for now, we still have it, and just a few last memories to make.

"So how did it go? You find anything?" I ask.

"Oh, you mean the motorcycle license class? Yeah, yeah, no sweat. Didn't even leave the house, worked it out all online. Mom says thanks, by the way. And I do too. That was really cool, babe. I don't know why you're hanging out with a loser like me." She smirks, tilting her head casually, giving me a sideways glance.

"Stop! You suck so hard when you're down on yourself. You're awesome. I don't marry the non-awesome, so...stop." I gently punch her shoulder, then kiss her cheek. "Hey. You know what?"

"You love me?" she smirks.

"Yeah! But also? You just called Joyce 'Mom'. Don't think you've done that since I left for Seattle all those years back."

She blinks, tilting her head this way and that as she considers. "Huuuh. Yeah. Yeah I guess I did." She gives me a wink, and says nothing more about it.

"Good chat, huh?" I ask.

"Yup!, It was nice to hang out together. Been a long, long time since we've been able to talk like that. Without all the barriers in the way. We have you to thank for that, baby."

I shrug. "I can lead Prices to water, but I can't make them drink."

She smirks and murmurs, "I can think of several inappropriate ways to respond to that remark."

I laugh and smack her shoulder again, "Oh my God, you are _such_ a boy sometimes!"

Chloe sticks her tongue out at me and says, "I'm the boy with the awesome boobs, remember?"

This prompts a giggle from me. "Yeah, I suppose I didn't toke up nearly hard enough for that to blur out. God, that was still just the teeniest bit embarrassing." I then give a large stretch and yawn, as I look around.

"Hon? Where are we headed, this looks like the road to the..."

"To the junkyard, yeah." she interrupts. "I figured since we had a couple hours to kill before nightfall, we could visit some of our old hangouts."

She pulls aside to an out of the way spot on the road, and reaches over into the glove compartment, pulling out her oil vaporizer. "Hair of the dog that bit you?"

I groan slightly. "The dog that bit me the hardest last night was named Chloe Price."

"Arf arf." she murmurs saucily, before taking a hit, and then holding it out to me.

I groan again. "Sex and drugs was the cause of my being all tired and worn out today, baby. God, I thought that last hour at the diner was never going to end."

Chloe shrugs. "You get to sleep in tomorrow, right? So let's have some fun." She holds the vape out and waves it around my face. "C'mon little girl, you know you want some caaaaandy."

I give Chloe a Look. "Okay, now you're kind of weird and creepy, doing that."

"I am!" she replies brightly. "But don't tell me you're not just a little bit turned on by me trying to tempt you down the path of excess at this moment."

I give a sigh of disgust, a slight buzzing noise rising up from the back. "Fuck you for being right." With that, I lean over, taking a nice, healthy pull while she still holds the chunky unit, hold it for a few seconds, and then blow it in her face. Then I slip over, however awkwardly, and straddle her lap, grinning down as I pin her back on the seat.

"Whoa! Where did that come from?"

I lean in, starting to nibble on her ear. "You mess with the bull, you get the sexy, sexy horns. Don't turn me on unless you can handle the job, Che."

She gives a nervous flush, and then looks around, laughing lightly. "Uhh...yeah...but...someone could come driving by, and see us, and..."

I grin wickedly. "Yeah. They sure could." Keeping my eyes locked on her eye, I reach over to my blouse, and start to slowly undo the buttons, one by one. I part it, and then reach down, and only consider doing this because I happen to be wearing a front clasping bra today. Which quickly becomes unclasped.

"Order up, baby..." I breathe out with a purrr, watching her squirm, both from discomfort and hot need.

"O-okay Max, now I _know_ how fucking evil you are. You're basically dressed up like my Mom, trying to seduce me. This is both incredibly uncomfortable and ridiculously hot." Chloe bites down on her bottom lip, glancing around nervously.

I tilt my head, wondering how far to push this. "I can always stop...if you like." All the same, I lean in, kissing and nibbling on her lips.

"Ah...ummmm. I didn't say...stop." she murmurs, as a faraway look starts to cloud her eyes. I lean in, helping myself to another nice hit from the vape, then quickly kiss her, my tongue parting her lips open, and breathe the mist down into her lungs. As much as Chloe loves shotgunning me, she absolutely goes wild when I take the initiative and do it to her. And I hate to admit it, but as the buzz sweeps me away, it does a lovely job of taking the worst of the workday blech away from my body and brain.

(Note to self: this is fun, but don't start liking it too much. I still have college coming up in barely a year.)

Her hand reaches up to my chest, hefting one of my breasts, tracing her thumb delicately across nipple, which is stiff, almost to the point of discomfort by this point. I straddle her thigh, and she welcomes me pressing mine, hard between her legs, after lifting up the skirt high above my hips. As I steal another ferocious kiss from her, I think to myself how glad I am to be hot, bothered, and stoned, because otherwise, the discomfort of being so crammed in this seat, with a steering wheel barely an inch from jamming painfully into my back would make all of this a serious turn off.

By the time we start to get hot and heavy, grinding needfully against each other, I do get a back full of wheel a couple of times, which starts to wreck the mood. But Chloe knows exactly what to do. Slipping me off, shimmying out the door, and beckoning to follow. I button up, just quickly enough for public consumption, and she takes my hand as we giddily stumble in the ever growing dark towards the junkyard proper, and her old 'clubhouse'. Once it's obvious we're the only two souls around, we find a comfy - okay, comfier - corner and fall back to the ground, desperate and hungry. By this point, I'm actually a bit more baked than I intended to be, and things get a little frenetic, and shameless, instinct and pure lust doing an absolutely awesome job pushing my dignity and self-awareness out the door.

A few minutes later, someone is moaning loud enough to be heard. I'm not entirely certain that it's not both of us. I'd lament that Chloe and I have a real problem with acting like a pair of horny teenagers except: hello?! Duh!?

* * *

The last fragments of sunlight are slowly melting off into the distance when we come back to ourselves. I glance down and groan softly.

Damnit. I'm going to need to get my uniform dry cleaned; seriously, I am a total hot mess at the moment, with my mussed hair, the dirt stains on my blouse and skirt. Chloe reaches over, pulling small twigs out of my hair. We glance at each other and laugh lightly, as I stroke her cheek, giving a soft and tender kiss; quite the inverse of those hungry, primal, instinctive ones we were sharing barely half an hour before.

Chloe looks over my shoulder towards one of the ruined walls and groans. "Awwww...damn asshole kids."

I glance behind and notice that where "Chloe was here. Rachel was here. Max was here." was written, it's all been crossed out, with "Jayce rulez, bitches!" scrawled underneath.

"No fucking respect!" Chloe hisses. Her reaction prompts a laugh from me. I reach up to lay a finger over her lips before she can say anything more and murmur, "We had our fun while it lasted. This was your territory for a while, and then for a shorter time still, it was ours. But it belongs to the past. Let these kids have their fun, baby."

Chloe is mollified by this, but just barely. She stands, dusts herself off, and walks over, tracing her fingers over my name, and then Rachel's.

"Funny though. I wish we figured out what happened to her." she sighs. "I think...think you two would have gotten along pretty awesome, you know?"

"Yeah, I know we would have, sweetie."

I leave out about how part of me is glad she hasn't come back. I'd really not like to find out how quickly my kitty claws would come out. I don't know whether the fact that Chloe and I are engaged now would make me more or less insecure and jealous.

I study my fingertips, see them instinctively curled into claws already. Glance over at Rachel's name, just across Chloe's shoulder...

"Babe?" she asks me questioningly. "Where are you going?"

Am I going somewhere? Oh...shit! What am I doing?!

Apparently I am. I'm just barely presentable as I walk out into the purplish twilight spreading it's murk across the junkyard. Following some strange, undeniable instinct, I walk over towards a small clearing kneel down, and start digging away at the ground.

"Hon? Baby...Max?" Chloe asks following me the whole way. "What...what are you doing?"

"I really don't know..." I answer back, trying to hold down the note of panic in my voice. "Honest. I just suddenly had the urge to dig. I can't...can't quite seem to stop myself. I don't know if it's the weed, or if the weed is keeping me from completely freaking out over this. I think I need to just let this play out."

Chloe kneels down next to me. "Okay...game's over hon. Ha ha, can we go now?"

I shake my head. "I...I really can't stop, Chloe. I'm...I'm _really_ trying to keep from going totally mental right now. Can...can you help me dig? I think it'll go away, if I keep digging."

Bless her, she helps me. As insane, and pointless and weird as this all comes out, she helps me dig. After ten minutes, we've got a small hole, a foot and a half deep. A foot and a three quarters...

...by the time we hit roughly two feet, the urge dissipates as quickly as it came over me.

I pull myself back, seriously scared that if I don't leave right now, it'll come over me again. I stand up and start to hurry towards the truck. I want to leave...want to get out of here. Now!

I make it to the truck until I burst out, crying; more out of relief than anything else. Chloe is there, quickly encircling me with comforting arms, stroking your hair, shhhing me.

"Oh God!" I whisper. "What...I have no fucking idea what happened, Chloe. I just saw Rachel's name, and the urge to dig, right in that spot, suddenly came over me. Don't know why, don't know what I was expecting to find. But it's obviously not there."

I bury my face against her chest and let a few more sobs out.

"Maybe it's related to all your time travel stuff? Something that happened before, that didn't happen this time around?" she offers.

"It's as good an explanation as any." I whisper out, then cough. "Um. Could we please leave now? I really, really, really want to go home, okay? I think I've had my fill of having hot monkey sex in our old haunts for the rest of the year.

We drive back home in utter silence, as I stare out the window, trying to make sense of what just happened. In the end, I simply accept it as a thing. An event. An old, tangled mental landmine that went off. I can other obsess about it, worry what's happened, worry more about what else could happen in the future, or I can just...let it go. Let it lie in the past, and forget about it. Accept it as collaterate damage, mental scarring, from my Life-That-Never-Was.

Maybe it's foolish, but the latter part sounds more my speed. Yeah.

* * *

Chloe drives us back to her parent's house. Undresses me, takes me in the shower, and washes me off. Treating me like an absolute princess, kissing me, reassuring me, being absolutely...

...oh God, I love her! So much. There's this amazing, emotional, tender side of her that she still has trouble showing. But when she let's it down, and displays it for me...

...I feel like the most special woman in the world.

"Okay, I got flannel PJ's for both of us. I got popcorn, and cake, and root beer, and movies." she announces, as I get toweled off in the bedroom. "This is me, putting the vape away." And she does, hiding it in her old stash box. "And for the rest of the night, I hereby declare this room a drug-free cuddle and kissing only zone. Movies, snacks, and you. That's all I need in my life tonight. Probably ever, but...it's good, yeah?"

I laugh, pulling on the classic red flannel pajamas. This is why we're going to be forever awesome and married until we're a zillion and two. Because Chloe is in perfect synch with me. Able to go from depraved sybarite to frumpy homebody in under an hour flat. She knows what I want, what I need, and gives it to me, no questions asked. I don't know what I did to deserve her, but I promise, I'm never going to take her for granted.

Not once, not ever.

I give her a tiny headbutt and whisper. "Sounds like the best."

That night, we start our movie marathon with Big Trouble in Little China, loving trading bites of chocolate cake and tossing popcorn into each other's mouths, I try to relish each and every second, make the futile attempt to commit all the minutes to memory. Something tells me we'll never quite have something like this night again; the two of us, in her room, watching TV and just enjoying each other's company, like we're sixteen and seventeen, without a care in the world, in no rush to reach adulthood.

"Love you, baby" I whisper, kissing her cheek.

"I know." she whispers back, winking roguishly at me.

"Oh! I am going to spank you so hard when we go back to being adults tomorrow."

But tonight, I'm more than happy to just drift off to sleep in her arms, the comforting warmth of her weight against me, as the even quieting dialogue of whatever movie we're watching at one in the morning fades away into a silent burble.

I wake up in much better shape than I did yesterday.

* * *

 _ **A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MAX!**_

Hi kids! So I'm still keeping to my once a month Riotgrrls schedule at least, continuing on with a fluffier offering of sex, drugs, and rock and/or roll!

Someone, I forget who, suggested the scene where Justin and Trevor (who may or may not have been in Max's class...I decided to make them a year younger for the sake of believability) are messed with by Max. I want to say **rowanred81** , but if it wasn't, PLEASE let me know, so I can stop feeling like a ditz, and give proper credit where credit is due. Because it worked out surprisingly well! And if it was him: Thanks a million! :-D

Also boy...writing Kate was interesting for this. I don't have to tell folks that same sex marriage is still a touchy subject...I mean, probably not for THIS audience, duh, but I really wanted to try and be respectful of Kate, without turning her into a mouthpiece. I wanted her to act in a way that I honestly think she would, in a situation like this. Hopefully I did her justice.

Now... **THIS** is the part I wanted to get everyone's attention for: Riotgrrls has been fun, but I'm starting to run out of steam, I'm afraid. I have some ideas for a Seattle chapter, and then I DEFINITELY KNOW what Max is going to do for Chloe's 21st birthday in March of 2015 (and that is gonna be hot!) and obviously I have some ideas for the end...but right now, in all the between spaces? I'm drawing blanks. :-( Most of my inspiration and effort are being sucked up by Black Swan. Not a bad thing, but a thing all the same. I mean, I'd hate to have this all wrapped up in three or four more chapters, but that's kind of what I'm looking at right now.

So I'm throwing open the floor to ideas. Mention it in the reviews, or PM me. I won't promise to use it, but I will promise to consider it, and if it does get used, you of course get all my thanks and credit! So let's see what you people got, yeah?! :-D Obviously, keep ideas within the theme of this series, and it should be vaguely realistic. But beyond that, go nuts!

(Man I hope I don't regret this *laugh!*)

Anyhow, thanks for all your continued support!

P.S. October 20th! Oh God! Oh God! I am both horrified and elated!


	8. Ouroboros Or Not

**_A Word From The Author_**

 _Hi kids. Sit down, would you? We need to talk._

 _Kids, sometimes a Mommy author and a Daddy story still love each other very much, but they grow apart, and need to..._

 _Okay, all kidding aside, I'm afraid this is the last chapter of Riotgrrls in Love. And it's probably not like anything you are expecting. It's a funny thing, a year and a half ago. I was absolutely grooving on all things Life is Strange, feeling incredibly inspired by it. Just overwhelmed with ideas. And so RiL was born, along with the amusing notion that I would have an incredibly shallow framework from start to end, and fill in the blanks organically, as the winds of inspiration bore me aloft._

 _Yeah. Not so much._

 _By September, I was already running on fumes. As most of you know, I ended up branching out and away into two huge projects, Black Swan and Grande Dame. Pretty much all of my creative oxygen got sucked up. Especially with Black Swan, which saw me posting something almost weekly on average for the better part of a year. Man, that was rough. And the moment it concluded, my life kind of went to hell: my job filled up with 65+ hour workweeks, I started going through some heavy duty personal shit, my gender dysphoria went through the roof, and I was feeling particularly glum and nihilistic about the world. I've only just started to climb out of that hole very recently._

 _But I realized, a long long time ago, that I just wasn't going to be able to continue Riotgrrls in Love, not in any meaningful way. At best, I had two ideas left: one really, superbly awesome plot idea sketched out by **rowanred81,** dealing with Max having to fully come out to her parents. I was going to announce Max as a lesbian demisexual, and there was going to be a nice bit of drama. Honestly, I might still write that chapter someday, and publish it as a one shot. The second idea was smutty smutty goodness for Chloe's 21st birthday._

 _Beyond that? I had nothing. Zilch. A few shallow plot seeds, but neither the desire nor the inspiration to carry on with it. And so, a month ago, I started sketching out a plot to bring this series to an end. This is about as close as I have ever come to outright abandoning a project, but I didn't want to leave it hanging. This way, I at least give it closure. This chapter will be a bit more dramatic and 'weird', but it does a nice job - I think, at least - of bringing the series back to its roots, invoking the story that started it all: The Never-Ending Sacrifice._

 _It did feel good, I'll admit, to write again, after three-four months. It was sad to see this series come to an abortive end, but it felt better to see it get wrapped up in a way it deserves. My apologies for having to walk away from it. Honestly, I don't know when I'm really going to start writing again, but it was good to be reminded I can still do it. But...sorry to keep you waiting over a year, for this._

 _Take care, friends._

* * *

I can't believe it's almost over. That we've come to the end. At long last.

Aw shit. Listen to me, I'm being so melodramatic! On the other hand, they say every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end. That was from a song, I think?

But the point is: yes! The wait is finally over. We made it, all the way to October 2015. The Big Day is here. The one where I wake up Max Caulfield, and go to bed Max Caulfield-Price. It's been over a year now, since San Francisco, and Chloe proposing. And what a year it was! Heading back into Arcadia Bay for a bit, getting our biker's licenses; going back to Seattle to visit my folks and having to deal with my Mom's weird initial hangups - all the trouble and shit she had accepting my sexuality and choice of life partners, but hey, she came around. Then there was the small publishing house who contracted me to take a bunch of photos for a collected works book, and how I convinced them to let me make it a joint project, peppered with Chloe's illustrations. Our initial trip into the South, and our hasty retreat away from it - yeah...such a bad idea. And Chloe's sexy, sexy 21st birthday, oh my God, that took us a week to recover from.

And of course, gay marriage finally getting legalized over the past Summer. I swear, it was all I could do to keep Chloe from dragging me to the nearest city clerk's office and getting us hitched on the spot. I put my foot down, and insisted she had to wait, until we at least settled down in South Hadley.

And that's ultimately where we ended up. With great sadness and reluctance, we sold the Princess Sparklefists Express to this hip lesbian couple three towns over who obviously appreciated her beauty and majesty; it was gonna cost us too much to keep her in storage, and honestly, we needed the money, at least until the royalties from the book started coming in. God, I'm gonna miss her, because she was an amazing part of our lives. But it was time to move on. You know, to the next amazing part!

Hee hee...can I just say how cool it is, starting college a year late, but with all this awesome life experience under my belt? I swear, the first couple of weeks here at Mt. Holyoke, I kept telling Chloe "I can't believe how young everyone is compared to me. All this shit we've done already. I feel so...so grown up!"

Chloe and I found a tiny apartment near campus to live in; my folks hardly complained, because it meant college was going to be cheaper for them to foot the bill. The school gave me some upfront shit about it. They hated letting a first year student live off campus, but when I brought up the argument that I wanted to be living somewhere with my _wife_ , and that obviously a dorm room wasn't going to cut it, they relented.

On the contingency that I was actually married, of course, which brings us to this moment, right here. In our tiny apartment, overlooking a quaint little theater, the frozen yogurt shop and Korean restaurant. It might not be much bigger than a closet, but the location is totally to die for.

And Chloe is coming home from work to pick me up, any minute now.

Oh yeah! About that; it turns out Easthampton, which is right over in the next county, over the mountain, has this crazy-awesome tattoo shop. For such a nowhere place I'd never heard of, apparently all sorts of artist-celebs pass through, from places like Europe, and Japan, and LA. Chloe managed to build up just enough 'scene cred', with her work, and with the people willing to vouch for her, that the studio, someplace called Off The Map, was willing to take her on a trial basis as a house inker.

She's never been happier.

New England...I don't know how to describe it. Weird. Different. A bubble, almost separate from the rest of the country. Old, so old, compared to the West Coast. Super-white, not that Arcadia Bay was a melange of racial harmony, but Western Massachusetts is so white it hurts to stare at it sometimes. Still, with all the art and academics and culture, and being so close to both Boston and New York City - did I mention how close everything is, because the states are so tiny? Still getting used to that - this is going to be a pretty cool place to call home for the next four years. I'm not sure I see us settling down here in the long run but - eh. Never say never.

So where was I? Oh right! Getting married! Any moment now, Chloe is gonna walk in, pick me up, and we're going to drive to Northampton, and have this Unitarian - uh - priestess? Not sure how that works, but she's going to do the deed. A really quick and simple legal transaction. Kate will be there to witness, because she lives barely twenty minutes away from us now, and Chloe is bringing a friend from work, and that will be that. We'll be officially married.

The way we were always meant to be.

Oh don't get me wrong, this is just the legal ceremony, _Of course_ we're going to have a big, awesome, kick-ass, mind-blowing celebration of love and harmony back home, probably during Winter break. Chloe is already teasing me about having a Frozen-themed wedding, and I tease her back by saying obviously we should do Big Hero 6 instead: she can dress up like Gogo and I'll be Honey Lemon.

But we couldn't wait any longer to make it official. You know, for The Man.

So I'm pacing now, wondering why I'm feeling so nervous - no, not nervous - excited really. Checking the time and wondering why it's going so slow, and why Chloe isn't here yet, to throw me onto the back of our Harley and make a proper woman out of me.

Pacing back and forth, to and fro; I stare at the door, wondering if I concentrate hard enough, maybe it'll bring Che right through it.

"Here. You look like you could use a drink. Anything to calm you down, keep you from wearing a groove in the carpet."

I stop short, because there's a voice coming from behind me. Not Chloe's, and not anyone I know, even though it sounds so familiar and **WHAT THE FUCK?!**

I'm alone! I'm supposed to be alone here, in this apartment. Who the hell is here? How did they get in?!

I turn on one heel, spinning around to see who's with me, and exactly how fucked I am. Part of me is so glad that there's a clear line between between me and the door. It'll just take a few seconds to run. An instant, and I can be out, calling for help. Maybe Chloe will show up, and she can save me from...

Wait.

Me?

Because that's exactly who it looks like. Swear to dog, it's _me!_ Well, a version of me, obviously. She's clearly older, like maybe in her late twenties. Hair dyed black, with fire-red tips. She's dressed in a heavy oilcloth duster, covering up what looks like some grey, nondescript one-piece uniform: something like a utility belt, practical looking boots. Vaguely paramilitary, but not a lot of eye-catching details, except for the little gold pin on her chest: something that looks like an infinity sign. Oh, and the big scar, right across her left eye.

What the fuck is this? Some evil version of myself from another timeline?!

The older Max laughs, smiling warmly. She shakes her head, and says "No. I'm perfectly nice. But it's the scar, right? Chicks dig the scar. Especially one chick in particular."

Oh shit...

"I just said that last part out loud, didn't I?" I bemoan.

Other Max nods once. And I still can't believe what I'm seeing. Another me, just here. Out of the fucking blue. A million questions scream through my brain. They all crowd each other out, and I can feel my head short circuiting; it keeps me from asking anything.

"You're handling this a lot better than usual. But the the chronospatial scanner tells me you're one of the Max's with a much more interesting life than usual." Other Max says with a smirk. She holds out the glass towards me again. "Do you want this? It's perfectly good apple juice, and if you don't drink it, hell, I'm gonna."

I grab the glass from her hand and down about half of it on the spot, only considering how dumb the idea might be, two seconds too late. I mean, what if she just roofied me or something! Gah! Stupid, Max. Stupid!

"It's not drugged." she says, as if reading my mind. And just to prove it, she grabs the glass from my hand and takes a long sip.

"Wowser. This is super fucked up." I say. About as succinct an appraisal of the situation as I think I'm capable of at the moment.

"Yeah. Kinda." she agrees. "More for you, though. For me, this is just Tuesday."

"Most obvious question, first?" I ask. "What the fuck, Max? Assuming that's your name, too?"

"Maxima." she quickly retorts. "Maxima Price. I prefer the whole package. Max-i-ma." She bounces her hand in the air with each syllable. "Sounds _way_ more dramatic and cool that way, like I was born to field work. So you're a Max, huh? Let me a guess: a Max-Never-Maxine?"

I can only nod.

"Wicked." she says, a pleased smile on her lips.

"Am I in trouble?" is about the only thing I can think to ask. "I mean, are you here because some crazy person from another timeline is coming after me? Like...like...shit...what was that movie? About the guy killing versions of himself because it makes him stronger..."

"The One?"

"Yes! Thank you!" I exclaim. "With Jet Li."

"It was a pretty disappointing movie, despite the awesomeness of its premise." Other Max declares.

"It was! But it fits. Wait... _does_ it fit?"

I'd like to pause here for a moment and note to all of you just how well I'm handling this situation. Really, you should all be in awe of my chill.

Wait. Does it seem weird to you that I'm handling this so well? Don't you think I should be freaking out more?

Well, don't you?

Other Max laughs brightly, before she finishes off the rest of the juice and puts the glass down. Holding out her hands, she says, "Relax. No. You're fine. Sorry, it's just...this is a thing I do. I work for a multiversal policing organization called the Transinfinium. Long story short, the bulk of my job is to help secretly maintain the integrity of the Omniverse, yadda yadda yadda, can't tell you much more or I'll have to shoot you, the end. That kind of thing."

My jaw drops, and I point out the blindingly obvious, "This seems really counter to whatever kind of...uh...code, you might have? Prime directive?"

"Oh shit, seriously. This is the stuff that totally drives my bosses nuts when they think I do it, but honestly? As much as they like to yell 'Maxima! You can't expose yourself to inhabitants of timelines that haven't discovered parachronic technology!' but...for cereal? Who are you going to tell? Who'll believe you?"

I nod, because she's got a point. I don't even believe it myself, and I'm watching it as it unfolds!

"Anyhow, sorry. Like I said, this is a thing I do. As I go through my patrol, I always keep an eye out for versions of myself, ones who are, shall we say, more interesting than normal. And sometimes I'm really lucky, and get a chance to visit them on their wedding day. Or anniversary, that counts too. I like to take pictures, bring them back home for the collection. Liz gives me shit every time I do this, but you know - she secretly adores the fuck out of it, too. It's romantic plus-plus." She gives me a wink.

"Sorry...Liz?'

" _My_ wife. Elizabeth? Soon to be your wife, right? No? Sometimes the names aren't always the same in different dimensions. You might know her as Alice, or Casey, or...um...Kayla?

I just shake my head, confused.

Oh wait...

"Chloe." I say. "My Chloe. Elizabeth is her middle name."

"Hah! Chloe? That's a new one! New-ish. I mean, we named our daughter Chloe, so Liz'll be amused by that. Right, so anyhow, like I said." she reaches out, gripping my shoulders. "I just wanted to wish you good luck. If your woman is anything like mine, and chances are high that she is, you two are going to be so - just so goddamn happy together."

I push aside everything the Other Max is saying, ignore the fact that she's treating this like some sort of inter-dimensional social call, and latch onto something she made mention of earlier.

"Wait. Wait a second. Please...just..." I swallow hard. "You make it sound like you know. About me, about the powers I have. Had."

She nods once. "Oh yeah. I've got this doohickey in my coat that's able to read the local dimensional fabric, and scan its past timeline, back through the past few years. There are obviously certain signatures that I look for. People, things, events. I can practically scan a whole planet's near-term history from a single point in a day and a half from any location; gotta love quantum entanglement! Then I run it all against my own baseline and investigate the more intriguing variances. But I've been around the block enough to know what "Interesting Maxes" look like. So, let me guess. You're a time-empowered version. Um...are you one of the Maxes who got her powers at age thirteen, right after Liz - er - Chloe's Mom died?"

I shake my head, and add, "No. And it was her Dad that died."

"What? Awww, I really hate those timelines. They're extra sad. Okay, so later on? High school probably? Some event where your wife-to-be is about to die, or be hurt, or do something incredibly stupid? Jesus Christ, five universes back, there was a version of me who gained the power to alter the local timeline after her Liz got it in her head to try her hand at making butane hash oil..."

"She...she got shot." I interrupt. "And I had to...I took it back. But there was a storm. And it was going to..."

Everything in my head is suddenly a jumble. The memories of the last year muddle together with my remembrances of that One Particular Week In October. The one I had to wipe away, when it was obvious that Arcadia Bay was going to be destroyed if I didn't. It combines with the thousand and one brief little branches I wandered to and fro through. Moments I had to replay, roll back, until it gets so bad that I can't even remember what's real, and what's only a memory for me alone.

I start to sink to the ground, but Other Max quickly closes the distance between us, helping me into the chair.

"Whoa. Hey there, babe. Take a load off. Let me guess: you got the rewind powers. Did it come with the photo jumping? Ohhh! I love the photo jumping! It gives Headquarters the heebie-jeebies when I write about it in my reports."

Again, I can only nod.

"Oh, I know that look. You had to go all the way back to start? Found yourself running down a 'dissociative quantum-level paradox corridor', or whatever the hell Warren likes calling those things. Rogue sub-timelines that tend to self-annihilate or otherwise take drastic action to rebalance themselves if they're left unchecked. Man, those things get vicious. Believe me, I know better than most."

"You sound like you've seen this before. A whole lot, before."

Other Max shrugs. "Eh. Yeah. I know things. It's what I do. You know, like - oh wait, I don't think your timeline has gotten to that season of the show yet."

It erupts all at once. All of the doubt, questioning and unease that's lain mostly dormant in my head. The weird little feelings that something was wrong, that sometimes...

"So what...what's wrong with me? Why isn't this timeline the way I - I think I remember it? I mean, I went back, I took it back, but events didn't play out the same! I forgot stuff, and then things would come back to me, in nightmares! And...and sometimes, I'd act weird, and have no idea what, like my subconcious was trying to act out on something the rest of me didn't understand! This one time, we were in junkyard, and I started digging, but didn't know why. It...

I remember now.

She was dead. I was looking for her. For Rachel Amber. She was dead, but then she wasn't...

Oh my God. Why wasn't she in the junkyard? She was supposed to be in the goddamn junkyard!

"It's like I came back, but the universe wasn't the same, the way it should have been. Everything changed, except for me! So you tell me, am I in the right place? Am I in the right time? Am I supposed to even be here at all?!"

Holy shit. Look at me. I'm on the edge of tears, and my voice is high and sharp. I'm seriously freaking out here. I've been so happy for so long, and now, all of the sudden, I'm going nuts, and I can't shake the feeling something is seriously wrong!

Other Max looks down at me with what I can only call sisterly affection, pats my arm and says, "Huh. Yeah. Your signature was - ah - a bit more tangled and knotty than a lot of others I've seen."

"What does that mean? What? Tell me!" I demand.

She leans in close, takes a deep breath through her nose, and explains, "Well Max, I find when you get to a point like this in your life, where nothing makes sense? That's when it's best to wake up."

The words cut through me, and produce a strange frisson in my skull. Like a TV speaker starting to go on the fritz.

"Wha-?"

"Max." she says, more firmly now. "That's the real reason I'm here. Why I came to see you today. Because it's time for you to wake up. To go back to where you actually belong. I'm sorry, but you can't stay here any longer." She grips me by both shoulders, and gives a single shake.

"Wake up, Max!"

The sound of a gunshot fills my ears, rolling like distant, half-remembered thunder.

Wake up? Wh-why? Wake up from what? I'm not sleeping. I'm not! I'm perfectly awake! Chloe is going to walk through that door any moment now, and take me away from...

away...

Oh God.

I'm bleeding.

I look down, and there's blood coming from my left side. So much of it! It looks like it should hurt, but it doesn't. It doesn't feel like much of anything.

Except cold.

Suddenly, I'm so cold and...am I lying down on the ground? It's the ground that's so fucking cold, right? Hard. I can feel it pressing against my back, in segments.

Tiles?

And then everything is dark. I can't see.

Help?

I can't see!

Chloe's voice is telling me to hang on. Begging me not to die.

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm not going to die. What took you so long. Are you ready? Do you have the marriage certificate? You are _not_ going to believe the weird fucking day I just had."

That's what I would have said, if I could get my mouth to cooperate, but it just won't. Comes out in a muttered jumble.

Fuck, I'm tired. Ridiculously exhausted. This cold floor I'm lying on seems really comfortable now.

I wonder where that Other Max went.

Doesn't matter. I'll just close my eyes. A few minutes of rest won't kill me.

Right?

* * *

The first thing that Max could sense was that she was warm and comfortable, but at the same time achy and stiff, like she hadn't moved in a long while. She shifted, trying to wiggle her toes, and then her legs, and found to her dismay that her limbs weren't nearly as responsive as they should have been.

 _What the hell? What's wrong with me?_

Her eyes refused to flutter open the first time she tried; they felt sticky, almost glued together. Tentatively, she reached up, rubbed the built-up gunk away and gave it another go. As she surveyed the hospital room she found herself in, she was struck with an immediate sense of deja vu.

 _Just...like when I came to visit Kate, after she tried to..._

Max gave a light gasp, and attempted to bolt upward. She was only mildly successful.

 _Where the hell am I?_

There was a curious sense of solidity that thrummed in the back of her brain. It was as if colors were muted, and she was peering at her surroundings through sunglasses; a duller, drabber world, quite different from the bright, neon cheer of the existence she'd known but moments - and a lifetime - ago.

She felt mundane. Anchored.

 _Jesus! I could have sworn it all happened, though! Chloe being shot...and the two of us buying an RV together. Being proposed to, and traveling the country. I can't believe I just dreamed it! It couldn't have been..._

But the memories of it all were already fading, crumbling softly to dust in whatever part of the brain tidies up such experiences after they've served their purpose. Max though to grab a pen and paper, so she could at least start writing down as much as possible.

That was when she saw Chloe. Blue haired and looking very much as she remembered her, on that fateful day when they met again in the girl's bathroom at Blackwell. She was sitting in a chair, pulled up right next to the bed. Slumped sideways against the wall, she was snoring quietly, an almost invisible line of drool trickling down her cheek.

Max reached out to affectionately stroke Chloe's face, smiling against the lump in her throat as she swallowed hard. She tried to keep from bursting into tears as Chloe sleepily nuzzled against her fingers. As if by instinct.

 _Fuck. Fuuuuuck! I totally got shot. I mean, that's what happened before, right? There was the tornado, and the picture of the butterfly. Chloe told me to do it, to jump back and let her die, so Arcadia Bay would be saved. Why did I remember all of that differently in the dream? It was the same, but...not._

It was all coming back to her now; the storm bearing down on them. The terrible decision to be made: Chloe or The Bay? One life, or a thousand? Max had allowed her best friend, the woman she'd fallen in love with - or, perhaps more to the point, realized she'd been in love with all along - to talk her into jumping back, one last time. To let cruel fate unwind as intended, and sacrifice Chloe to the grist mill of Reality.

For a few fleeting seconds, Max was ready to go through with it, as she curled up in the tiny stall of the girls bathroom. Desperately willing herself to keep from bursting into tears. Trying not to imagine what it would be like, those last few moments of Chloe's life; so filled with anger and alienation, swinging blind at a world that hurt her, time and time again, only to have it come to a terrible, senseless end. Left to bleed out, dying on the bathroom floor. Alone, and frightened, and...

It was more than Max could endure. Her courage left her - or maybe she finally found it. Regardless, she rose up, ran out of the stall, and drew Nathan's attention at the last, fatal instant. It was an increasingly fuzzy blur what happened after that point. But Max was pretty damn certain she'd spoken to Chloe, before passing out. And maybe more, beyond that.

With her other hand, Max reached down, feeling through her hospital gown. She found the angry lump of scar tissue, far to the left of her abdomen. She didn't know much about gunshot wounds, but she couldn't help but be keenly aware of how incredibly fortunate she'd been to survive hers.

Max's attention was drawn back to the bluenette, who was finally emerging from her nap. Chloe yawned mightily, blinked her eyes, and gave a little grin.

"Hey", she breathed out.

"H-hey." Max replied, voice cracking.

There was a perfect, serene pause that passed between them, a moment where everything stopped; a slice of time frozen forever, just for the two of them.

Then the rest of Chloe's brain woke up, and the magic was dispelled.

"Shit! Max! Oh my God! You're...you're awake! How...when?" the blunette sputtered, before Max found herself being crushed in a heartfelt embrace. It hurt, but it was nothing compared to the ache in her heart. Her first instincts were to bury her face against Chloe's neck and hair, and breath her comforting scent in deeply. To kiss her as if her life depended on it.

But that Chloe, the one who fully reconnected with her, fell in love, and was forever hers, wasn't here. Not anymore.

It was all Max could do to keep from bursting into tears; instead, she focused on the conversation at hand.

"Gah...kinda...kinda crushing me here, Chloe. Not that I would normally mind, but..."

Chloe blushed and let go. She leaned back into her chair, and tried to hide her awkward embarrassment by brushing aside a few stray bangs of blue hair. "Sorry. Just - you know. You fucking startled me. After two months, even _I_ was starting to wonder if you were ever going to wake up.

 _Two months?_

Max glanced over at the clock; it was nearing five-thirty at night, and the pitch black sky outside her window confirmed the lateness of the season.

"Do you remember how you got here?" Chloe asked. "Remember anything at all? I mean, you obviously know who I am, and what your name is. Right?"

 _I remember us almost getting married. I remember how you look, first thing in the morning. How you like your breakfast cooked. The way you taste and smell. I remember...you and me, and us..._

It was all Max could do to keep those words from escaping her lips. Instead, she gathered her thoughts, and quickly came up with something more appropriate.

"I remember getting shot by some rich douche, if that's what you mean." Max made a show of peering underneath her gown, visually appraising her scar. "First thing I do when I get out of here? Buy a metric ton of belly shirts. I'm not even gonna wait until winter's over; just show this bad girl off right away, because chicks dig scars."

Chloe half-laughed, half-sobbed in response. "Hah! Hah...funny. God, look at you. Shot in the fucking gut, and that's the first thing you say." She shook her head, "When did you become such a badass? Seems like five years really changed you." She stopped short, and Max felts a blush creep up her cheeks as their eyes met.

Max could see the unspoken question in Chloe's gaze:

" _Did you just say chicks dig scars?"_

"So - uh. So look. Obviously, we've got a lot we need to catch up on, and maybe..."

That was as far as Chloe got; a passing nurse took note of Max's newly conscious state. In almost immediate order, more nurses rushed in, quickly followed by the physician on-duty. Chloe was politely shoo'ed off, with promises that yes, of course they'd let her come back to visit soon, but they needed to check on their patient.

As she watched the flash of Chloe's blue hair grow ever smaller, and then disappear entirely as she rounded down the hallway, Max suddenly felt like the loneliest woman in existence.

* * *

"That's really excellent, but why don't you sit down now, Max? You look like you need the rest."

Max was knowingly being obstinate, as she took a couple more stiff and lurching steps while leaning on the cane the hospital provided her. All the same, she was thrilled by the fact that she'd quickly managed to move away from using the parallel bars to walk, after Rhonda - the nurse attending to her - wheeled her to the physical therapy room.

"My sitting down shouldn't be viewed as agreement." Max muttered. "And don't take it the wrong way, because I've really appreciated your...hospital-ity" she added with a good-natured smirk. "I'm just looking forward to getting out of here."

Rhonda - the nurse - took the chair across from her, "Under normal circumstances, you'd still be here for weeks to come but, honestly? I've never seen a case like yours before. No one has."

Favoring the nurse with a disbelieving gaze, Max said, "What? Oh come on, what's the big deal? I got shot, I lived. I went into a coma, I woke up. Other than the weight loss and the muscles going soft, and a few other issues to work out, should just be a few more days. Right?"

The nurse took a slow, deep breath, and reached out to lay a hand on her arm. "Sweetie? You still don't understand. Despite what you see in movies, a coma is a major deal. It's usually the product of some form of brain damage: hypoxia, cerebral edema, encephalitis. That sort of thing. Now obviously, you suffered a significant amount of blood loss, and you're _very_ lucky Mr. Madsen got to you as quickly as he did, and knew exactly what to do while the ambulance was coming."

Max gave a thin, wan smile, "Yeah. That's me. Semi-charmed life."

"You honestly have no idea. Not only did you survive a shot that's deadly ninety-nine times out of a hundred, but you were in a coma long enough to suggest possible brain damage. A lot of coma victims require occupational therapy in order to regain basic skills, so believe me when I say that yes, it _is_ a big deal that you're barely twenty four hours past waking up, and you can brush your own teeth, feed yourself, and use the bathroom on your own."

"Glad to see all my mad skills are still totally intact." It came out harsher than Max intended, but she was in no mood to feel thankful. She'd spent half the night trying to write down all of her memories from the time she was dreaming, desperate to hang on to every little scrap she could. Already, she could feel those experiences bleaching away to nothingness in the harsh glare of real life, until all that remained were vague emotional that, she couldn't sleep well, having grown accustomed to Chloe's beloved presence next to her.

 _So how could it only be a dream? I mean really, part of me is still screaming it was real. All of it. I still feel so changed, like I'm the same twenty-year old Max I was when it ended. When I woke up._

Rhonda merely shook her head. "Seriously, just believe me when I say what a medical miracle you are. Doctor Franks is already talking about writing up an article on you, and seeing if he can get it published in JAMA."

"Neat. Does it get me out of the hospital quicker?"

"Assuming everything checks out, you continue to show signs of physical improvement, and there aren't any other undue health symptoms, no dangerous bone or muscle mass loss, no blood clots, I imagine you could be out of here as early as the end of the week. Being a cynical smartass is definitely an indicator that your mind is perfectly fine." The smile on Rhonda's lips showed she was joking - but maybe only partially. "Either way though, you're still looking at months of physical therapy: you have muscle to regain, and your body needs to get used to being exerted. So don't worry: you've got plenty of suffering ahead of you. You're a teenager, so that'll make you happy, right?"

Before Max could respond, she spotted Chloe from the corner of her eye. Her mood immediately lifted in response. Clearly, the nurse could spot the night and day difference in demeanor, chuckling as she said, "Looks like you've got a visitor. I'll just leave you two be. Please do _not_ try to walk back to your room though, alright? Just page me or one of the other nurses, and we'll wheel you back."

"Or I could do it!" Chloe exclaimed. "I've got hella driving experience with all kinda medical vehicles. Wheelchairs, gurneys, those wheely stands they hook IV bags to."

Rhonda only rolled her eyes and left the two of them alone.

Max closed her eyes as Chloe gave her a hug, trying her best to keep from dismaying at how casual it was; a friendly thing, bereft of any romantic intent. As if life was taunting her with this constant display of the platonic-minded version of her heart's beloved.

Flopping hard into the chair next to her, Chloe remarked, "Wooow. Look at you. Up and out of bed already. What do you do for an encore? Down a bottle of Everclear and tightrope walk over a pit of snakes?" She paused, and then with a sheepish look, murmured, "Sorry. That was probably a shitty thing to say to someone who actually got shot. Still, like I said before: Bad. Ass."

Max laughed brightly, leaned in a bit, and murmured in a bad Russian accent, "Maxima, she is strong like bull." before thumping a fist against her chest, prompting her to wince. "Ow. I immediately regret doing that."

"Hey, you don't have to impress me. I'm impressed. Hella impressed. Really...really..." she drawled off. And suddenly, there was a wide chasm opening up between the two of them. Max could see it in Chloe's eyes: from her perspective, they'd only just met again, after five years of radio silence. A reunion punctuated by blood, madness, and near-tragedy. It made things difficult, in regards to talking it out, apologizing for having fallen out of touch.

 _But I guess it takes a lot of the hurt and anger away? Still, I'm not sure I'm ready to try and have that discussion with her yet. From my perspective, I saw her every day for years._

Thus, it was with no small amount of relief when Chloe broke the silence by asking, "So did anyone tell you? You know, about Nathan, and what happened to him? All the fucked up shit he confessed to?"

Doing her best to keep from spilling out the truth, that yes, she knew exactly what the hell was going on, Max shrugged and muttered a convenient half-truth, "No. I talked to my parents this morning. They were so - I mean, they went nuts. Good nuts. So happy and crying and relieved. I asked them what happened, and they kept saying there would be time enough for them to explain later. It's like, wow, Mom, I'm not made of glass. I just survived a gut shot at point blank range, yo. But it was obvious she was worried the news would make me freak, and have some sort of - dunno. Coma relapse?"

"Hah! Yeah well, they just don't know you like I do!" Chloe chirped.

But the light ran away from her face as soon as she said it.

 _Yeah. I know. You're thinking to yourself "Do I even really know Max anymore"?_

Quickly changing gears, Chloe said, "So here's the long and short of it: Nathan Prescott and Mark Jefferson had this sick, twisted, Darth Vader and Emperor Palpatine thing going on. Like Jefferson was hella insane in the membrane, kidnapping girls from school, drugging them, taking these BDSM pictures. All to satisfy some royally fucked up artistic urge. Can't understand it. Um..." Max could see the pain in Chloe's face, aware as she was that her once-lover had suffered, at least peripherally, at Nathan's hands.

"Doesn't surprise me. The shit about Jefferson, that is." Max said, heaving out a hard sigh as she did.

Chloe blinked in disbelief. "What. Wait wait wait. Seriously? Bullshit. Half the girls in that school were burning through their panties over the guy. What do you mean 'Doesn't surprise me?'?"

Max suddenly didn't feel like playing pretend, at least not all the way. She was too damn tired of it.

"I mean, it doesn't surprise me. Yeah, maybe I admired the guy's work, and I was really jazzed when I started the school year that he'd be my photography teacher, but after a few weeks, it was obvious there was something, you know, kinda off about the guy. The way he'd stare at me a little longer than he should have. And the way Victoria would throw herself at him, again and again, and he'd act like he didn't like it, but you knooow he did. I don't know how to explain it, but after the first month, I decided that Mark Jefferson was kind of a sleaze. Why do you think I was so reluctant to enter that stupid little competition of his? Everyday Heroes. Riiiight. Probably just a way to score with his female students, I figured. I mean, no, I had no idea he was kidnapping them and doing crazy shit, but now that I _do_ know, I'm not shocked. If anything, I'm _more_ surprised I'm still here, in Arcadia Bay. That Mom and Dad didn't insist on moving me to a hospital in Seattle.

Chloe rubbed the back of her head and smiled. "It wasn't safe to move you at first. After a couple of weeks, I called your parents, and we chatted. Convinced them that maybe, just for a while at least, they could keep you here. Promised I'd come and talk to you every day. That maybe it would help. Because we're best friends." She paused, before biting down on her bottom lip. "I mean, we were. Once upon a time. I don't...I don't know what we are right now." Turning half-away, she concluded, "I just know if you hadn't distracted Nathan like that, I'd be in the fucking morgue." After squeezing her eyes tight for a moment, she turned back to face Max and declared, "But don't go thinking this is just some shitty guilt thing!"

Max tried her best not to laugh. As painful as it was to interact with Chloe in this fashion, bereft of that full, romantic bond between them, a piece of her was swept up in the nostalgia, observing Chloe as she was now: the walls she put up, the bitterness, the uncertainty. The elephant in the room still hanging over them: why? Why hadn't they spoken for five whole years?

Reaching out, she took Chloe's hand in her own, squeezing it as tightly as she dare. A thrill of delight ran up her arm, making her heart beat faster. It took all of her will to keep from making more of it, from sliding over, taking her in her arms, showering her with kisses. All the things that would let the blunette know that she thought they were best friends, and so much more. She finally spoke when the blush rose up to Chloe's cheeks, reluctantly letting go.

"I don't think that at all, Chloe. You have no idea how happy I am to be with you right now. That you were the first person I saw when I finally woke up. And I'm not stupid, I can't pretend that there isn't this weight hanging over us. We didn't exactly part in the best of circumstances, and then we fell out of touch. I don't know how to even try to explain it all without sounding lame as fuck, so...so just let me say that I'm sorry? Even though 'sorry' alone isn't gonna cut it. I could try to tell you 'Hey, we're teenagers, we do stupid things, best friends drift apart all the time.' but I hope you would smack me if I ever tried to pull that line on you. You were going through an ongoing shitstorm, and I never...I never bothered...to reach out to you again."

The tears began rolling down her cheeks. A small voice in the back of her mind tried to reassure her that this was the way it had to be; that if she wanted to have any chance of getting her love, her wife-to-be, back into her life, she needed to go through the motions, one more time. She needed to take everything she'd learned from all of her strange and miraculous circumstances, and use it to make the best situation she possibly could.

Reaching up to wipe her face and brush back a few strands of hair, Max finished, "So no, you _don't_ have anything to feel guilty about. I know this is a super serious conversation we really need to have. Clear the air and all that shit, but...just please understand, I'm not ready to have it yet. For now, believe me when I say that I'm so sorry. And that I didn't reach out to you when I got back into Arcadia Bay because...I was too scared."

Chloe tilted her head, narrowed her eyes and said, "Scared? Jesus fuck, of me?" She snorted, shaking her head, and murmured, "Of what I'd sa- okay never mind, maybe I can understand that. Truth is, I _did_ have several choice spells ready in my arsenal of Bitchcraft ready to go, for the day we might actually stumble across each other." She shrugged. "Doesn't fucking matter anymore. Things changed, in an instant."

Gently shifting the conversation back to it's previous track, Max asked, "So Nathan shot me after I spooked him. I'm assuming he freaked out, and that's when he started confessing to things. So then what?"

A searching expression fell over Chloe's face. "And you're not the least bit curious what he and I were doing together? In the girl's bathroom, why he pulled a gun on me?"

What happened next simply spilled out past Max's lips without her initially considering the ramifications or consequences. She was tired: physically, mentally, even spiritually. By the time she thought to care, it was too late.

"I already know the story, Che. You were shaking Nathan down for money to pay off Frank, who you borrowed cash from to go looking for your friend Rachel after she went missing. You thought you had enough to blackmail him, but you didn't know Nathan was on the edge of a nervous breakdown."

The increasingly horrified look on Chloe's face was enough to shock Max back fully to her senses, to make her realize what she'd just said.

"H-how do you know that? How the hell _can_ you?" Chloe asked, in a high, tight voice.

Max struggled to think of an appropriate answer in short order. Lamely, she tried, "You...you must have talked about it. While I was in my coma. Right? Because like you said, you came and talked to me a lot, so you probably said something about it. Must have gotten through, subconsciously." It was another few beats before she realized the blindingly obvious. "Plus, duh, you know, I _was_ in the girl's stall. I overheard a bunch of your conversation with Nathan."

"Yeah, I did talk to you. About a lot of things." Chloe slowly shook her head as she answered. "But mostly reminiscing over stuff we did in the past. I never mentioned Rachel to you. I...it's still too hard to talk about...you couldn't have known!"

Max found herself clearly boxed into a corner. And she knew Chloe well enough to realize that there was no way of convincingly bullshitting her way out of this one when she was at her peak, let alone now, when she was almost permanently exhausted and recovering from major trauma.

Propping her chin against her fist for support, she quietly said, "Yeah, I can." What was it, that line that Other Max used on her? With a playful, wintry smile, she continued, "I just know things. It's what I do. I sit on my cute, exhausted ass. And I know things."

Chloe trembled, a rising surge of anger clearly building inside her. "That isn't funny, Max! Five years, and you think you can just screw around with me like this?! You know, I should just...fuck you!" she spat out, rising up from her chair. "Fuck you!" she added again, and turned to leave.

Max had never felt such despair before, nor been cut so hard to the quick. She knew full well it was her fault, whatever the reason. Just because she'd been put through the ringer wasn't any excuse. Maybe the Chloe of her alternate timelines and coma dreams would have been amused by her flippant behavior, but it didn't mean the very real, and very hurting Chloe before her would be.

Calling out after the blunette as she fled to the door, Max cried, "Wait! I'm sorry...Rachel! Did they ever find her? I mean..."

She didn't want to say any more.

Fortunately, it was enough to get Chloe to stop in her tracks, pausing just by the threshold of the door. She didn't turn back to her, but said, in a soft voice, taut with anger and frustration, "What, you don't fucking _know_ the answer to that already?" She reached out, smacking her fist against the wall, and then added. "But no. No, no one knows what happened, other than Nathan and Jefferson grabbed her, did their sick shit to her, and then she never came back, so fucking put two and two together." She started to sniffle; it was clear Chloe was crying, but refused to turn her head to let Max see her.

"Why? I mean, why didn't Jefferson tell -"

"Because Jeffershit was a coward! A little punk ass bitch!" Chloe exploded, finally turning around to yell at her. "Must've felt he was too fucking pretty to go to jail, because as soon as the cops came to arrest him, he pulled out a gun, and started waving it around. Suicide by cop, you know? And Nathan! He isn't saying a damn thing anymore. After Kate Marsh came forward and confronted him at the police station, he went, like, totally catatonic! They can't get him to say a fucking word anymore. Word is he just sits there, in his padded cell, not talking, not..."

Chloe slumped over, burying her face in her hands as she began to sob in earnest. "She, she was my life, my angel!" Max wilted in her chair, as Chloe finally looked over at her, half-accusingly, "I was all alone! You were gone, and Dad was dead, and Joyce got married to that fucking piece of shit. Rachel...she was all I had! And now she's gone, and the monsters who killed her? Just dumped her body like it was garbage!. And the cops can't find her, and the only people who know where she is are either dead or so fucked up in the head they won't say anything! So don't you sit there and smile and joke about how 'Ehhh, I know things!' Don't you dare!"

Max's heart tore in two as she witnessed Chloe's decompensation. She viciously berated herself mentally, for having been so thoughtless, for taking the woman who was supposed to be the love of her life, and being so heartless, so careless, with her feelings.

 _You have to get your fucking head back in the game, Max. Whatever you and Chloe have...had...it doesn't exist here. Not anymore. You wiped out the first relationship, and the second one was...it was all a fucking dream. None of it was real!_

The realization struck her numb. None of it was real.

Not for anyone, save herself.

And now she was on the verge of losing it all, before she even had a chance to try and make the relationship happen. Again. For a third time.

Part of her knew she should shut the fuck up. Apologize, beg for forgiveness. Try and blame as much as she could on her brain being screwy still, from the coma. But she just couldn't bring herself to do it. Chloe, her Chloe, was in such pain right now, and it was in her power to end it. To bring her some measure of closure.

Even at the risk that it would freak her out, and make her stay away forever.

 _God, do I even really know where Rachel is buried? It's all still a blur. We found her once, but I remember, in the coma, I tried to dig her body up, and couldn't find it. But...was that really just a dream? It's all fucking jumbled up in my head, I can't keep it straight!_

It was a gamble, but one she was willing to roll the dice on. For Chloe's sake.

Grabbing her walking cane, and using it to lift herself up from her chair, Max made her way slowly over to Chloe. She reached out with a tentative, shaky hand, and said, "I'm sorry. You're right. I forgot, how much she meant to you. At a time when you needed a friend the most, and I wasn't there anymore." Chloe nodded once, refusing to look her in the eyes as she worked to get a hold of herself.

Max leaned in, whispering against Chloe's ear, "I need you to trust me, even if it's only for one last time. Even if you end up hating me, and never wanting to see me again. But I think I know where they buried her. American Rust. Near the hangout you and she used to chill in...uhhh." She hemmed and hawed a bit, trying to dredge up a location from the miasma of confusing and conflicting memories now swirling around her brain. Eventually, she managed to settle on something that she was pretty sure of.

By the end, Chloe was staring at her, with a strange mixture of disgust, hope, and incredulous confusion. Struggling to keep herself on her feet, Max bowed her head and said, "Go. Just...please. Go. I really hope you find her, Chloe. I want to go with you. I want to help, but they won't let me out of the hospital yet. And you've fucking waited long enough for this moment. So don't...don't wait for me."

Chloe opened her mouth, as if to speak. All that came out was a strangled cry. She turned away from her and drifted out the door, as if in a daze. Max waited until she was out of sight before allowing gravity to have its way with her, exhausted as she was, beyond words.

 _Okay. You win, Rhonda. You gave me this whole speech about how my body's gotten used to not processing as much oxygen as before, and I shouldn't push it. But I did._

She could feel herself slipping away, unconsciousness imperiously demanding that she surrender.

 _Sure. I'll just lie here and take a nap. Nurse's bound to find me. And then..._

She was out like a light, uncaring as to whether she might ever wake up again.

* * *

Max sat alone at her booth in the Two Whales Diner. Two weeks had come and gone since she'd last seen Chloe. Naturally, the nurse had a shit fit when she found Max passed out, chiding her for pushing herself. Max made the appropriately apologetic noises, and given that her parent's insurance company wasn't interested in paying for any more days in the hospital than they had to, she still managed to get discharged by the end of the week as initially promised.

At the very least, her health was improving. She was still tired all the time, but paradoxically, they told her to avoid bed rest as much as possible while still not overexerting herself. Her body would need time to heal; a chance to rebuild.

She only wished she could be certain the same would happen for her heart.

In that sense, Max was grateful for the storm of activity that soon surrounded her; it kept her from constantly brooding over Chloe. Kate came to visit, and the two of them caught up, becoming closer over the course of a few days. She tried to constantly tell Max how brave she was, how everyone called her a hero.

" _Not a hero. Just lucky. I was fucking lucky, Kate. I acted on instinct, and I should have died. But I didn't. No,_ you _were the brave one, dealing with everyone calling you...all the terrible things they did. But you didn't let it tear you down. You stood tall and fast, and when the truth came, it set you free."_

It little bit of a lie, of course. Max knew she couldn't let her guard down anymore. No more mysterious 'knowing of things' that she shouldn't. The mask of the woman she'd once been, weeks and a lifetimes ago, so young, naive, carefree was slipped back on.

Of course she still remembered how close Kate came to ending it all; how courage nearly abandoned her, and she succumbed to despair. Max was more than happy to let Kate confess to her dark moments of weakness in due time, which she ultimately did in a heart-to-heart conversation a week later.

Her parents tried to drag her straight back to Seattle, but Max demurred. As a legal adult, she was well within her rights to refuse, and instead convinced them to let her stay until the end of the semester and 'wrap up loose ends'. Still, she had to promise to come home before Christmas.

The school let her back into her old dorm room to spend the last few days. It came as no surprise to her that she was excused from her courses. Without a doubt, the school was excessively accommodating in their willingness to let her take the next semester off as well, and come back for a fresh start next Fall. Blackwell was more than happy to tiptoe delicately around her, given that she'd been assaulted by and nearly died at the hands of a psychotic student on the edge.

Thus, she was completely unsurprised when, two days ago, she was summoned to Ray Wells' office to meet with him and the attorney representing the Prescott family. The wanted to get her to agree to a settlement, in exchange for dropping any pending civil action she might be considering. Max knew the situation damn well, though. She'd seen the reports in the Principal's files and she knew sure as shit how to use just enough of her knowledge to turn the screws hard.

" _You mean to tell me that there was no warning? None whatsoever? No reports of 'Nathan is exhibiting serious and disruptive behaviors in class'? We all heard the rumors. We all knew something was up with him, and he was being protected by the school, so don't piss on my leg and tell me it's ra - "_

" _Ms. Caulfield!" Wells interrupted. "We are all just as shocked and surprised as you at the random and very unexpected turn in Nathan's behavior."_

" _Bull. Shit!" she interjected. "Maybe I don't know for sure, and I might not be a fancy lawyer like Mr. Essex over there, but I'm really willing to bet that if I file a civil suit, I can get the school's records subpoenaed. And then there wouldn't be any doubt as to whether you negligently put my life and the life of the other students at this school in jeopardy!"_

" _Max," the older gentleman acting as Sean Prescott's attorney began, in a chiding and condescending fashion. "We understand that you're upset, but there's no reason to-"_

" _I'm not done talking!" she shouted. Lowering her voice down to a slightly calmer tone, she continued, "Now. I didn't say I wasn't willing to be bought off. That's not the question, because the answer is obviously: yes. The question now is: How much is my silence going to cost you? And the answer sure as shit isn't the tiny amount you're shoving into my hands and expecting me to agree to."_

For a quarter of a million dollars, Max Caulfield was now legally obligated to take whatever secrets she had to her grave.

It wasn't about the money though; it never was. It was about being angry, and lashing out. Trying to make someone, anyone, as miserable as she was feeling these days. The nights in her dorm room were long, dreadful, and so terribly lonely. A crippling sense of alienation and 'otherness' clung to her like a second skin. The emotional numbness that she initially possessed in the hospital melted away at long last, and she privately seethed against the universe, against an existence so cruel and vicious that it would put her, and people she cared about, through so much pain and suffering. She'd seen so many things, incredible and terrifying and fantastic. She'd been shaped by events that either no longer happened, or were apparently mere fantasy the whole time.

 _At least my imagination is awesome._

She was gripped by a sense of listlessness. She didn't know what the future held in store, and she didn't care anymore. It wasn't that she was suicidal, more she couldn't find anything else that was worth living for. Certainly nothing like the love she once had.

She didn't care about the money. She would have eagerly given away every penny of it for the promise of having Chloe back in her life. That was the one and only thing she so desperately wanted.

Max hadn't heard from her since that day in the hospital. Granted, with so many things happening in her life now, she didn't have much time to reach out to her at first. Later on, Chloe wasn't responding to her calls. She gathered up the energy yesterday to try and confront her at her house, only to find no one was home.

Her trip to the Two Whales was a last ditch attempt to try and make contact; if not directly to Chloe, then at least possibly through Joyce. There was David Madsen, of course, but for some reason, Max couldn't make herself face him for the moment.

But it was apparently Joyce's day off. And so Max found herself sitting all by her lonesome in a booth by the back corner, wondering what the hell she was going to do with the rest of her life. Let alone what she wanted to order off the menu.

She felt more than saw the shadow pass over the table; looking up, she opened her mouth and started to order some chili fries, expecting to see the waitress, but instead came face to face with Chloe. She stopped talking as a wide, beaming smile broke across her mouth.

"Hey."

"Hey! I've...I. I mean, hey." Max said, trying to dial back her obvious enthusiasm.

Chloe nodded, giving a thin, polite smile of her own. She canted her head towards the other side of the booth. "Can I sit?"

"Jesus, like you ever have to ask." Max replied.

With care and precision, Chloe lifted herself up off the ground, hands planted on the table and the back of the bench, and then shifted herself into a sitting position. She clasped her hands together, and looked out of the window at first, the traces of a thin, pained grin tugging at the sides of her mouth.

Ten seconds of silence passed, before Max spoke.

"Are you okay? I tried getting in touch with you, first when I got out of the hospital, and then..." She nervously ran a hand through her newly dyed and styled locks, twisting a finger around one of the shoulder length bangs.

Chloe blinked, as if looking at her again for the first time, "Wow. Shit, did you actually dye your hair?"

Max nodded quickly. It'd been a spur of the moment thing. She'd been passing by the hair stylists yesterday morning, and made up her mind on the spot. Black locks, with red tips, and two months of growth trimmed and styled. It was a small attempt at feeling like she had some vague control over at least one singular thing in her life. Shy Max, she of the mousy-brown colored hair, didn't live in this body anymore, so why not live the way she actually felt now?

"What? This? Yeah. I guess your bad influence is rubbing off on me already."

Chloe started to laugh, but stopped, like she was trying to keep herself from instinctively falling into an easy, warm conversation. She looked down at the table, then snuck a few glances in her direction.

"It - ah - it looks good on you. Hella cool. Like...well, I guess technically speaking, you _are_ a badass now." The two of them fell silent anew, before Chloe spoke again.

"I did it, you know? You told me where to go looking, and I did. Not right away though. 'Cause I was so angry, and totally convinced you were full of shit. I spent a couple days locked up in my room, hating you and - and missing you. And missing her. But eventually, what the fuck did I have to lose, right? So I grabbed a shovel, and I went to the junkyard. Dug around for a half hour, feeling like a total loser, until..."

Swallowing hard, Chloe reached up to brush at her eyes. Max reached across the table, relieved to find that the blunette allowed her other hand to be taken.

The blood ran from her cheeks as she continued explaining, "I found it. Her..the body. Just like you said. I went to the cops afterwards. And, you know, stupid fucking police, some of them started giving me shit, like somehow _I_ had something to do with it. Jesus, God damn..." she shook her head viciously. "The police and I, we don't get along so great."

"I know." Max whispered.

"Of course you do. Of course you..." Chloe swallowed hard, frowned, and pushed ahead. "Mostly, it was them giving me shit, you know. Nothing serious, but shit all the same. Because men suck. But they finally found a couple of fucking braincells to bang together, and tried to ask Nathan about it. As soon as they mentioned Rachel's body was found in the junkyard? He. Went. Nuts. Just broke down, and started crying. I mean, I don't know for sure, I wasn't there, but that's what they told me. Apparently, that was enough to seal the deal. But they made me promise not to tell anyone until Rachel's family could come and identify the body officially. Gonna be a press conference about it this afternoon. Hell. Frank even dropped the rest of my debt to him...he was happy enough to finally know the truth."

Chloe sighed, "So...yeah. Look, I stayed away from you, it was a shitty thing, but I knew I'd have to tell you the moment I saw you. Easier to stay away until now."

Max nodded slowly. She took a few steady breaths through her nose. Squeezing Chloe's hand once, she said, "I'm glad. You needed closure, as much as the truth hurts. I'm really happy you have it now. That's all I want. For you to be happy."

Chloe flinched, almost pulling her hand away. She squirmed in her booth for a moment, looking this way and that, before blurting out. "How? How did you know, Max? Please! I need an answer, a real one! Part of the reason I stayed out of contact with you? It was because there was a day or two I wondered - I'm sorry - but I really thought maybe somehow... _you_ killed her. I don't know how, I don't know why. I got in touch with your parents, asked some questions about where you were in April." She bowed her head. "It's obvious you're clean. You never came to Arcadia Bay until August. Never knew Rachel."

She stared holes down in the table, body lightly trembling, until she smacked a palm against the table and looked up again, "And it's not just this, Max! It's not...there was...I mean. You remember, don't you? The day Nathan shot you. And there you are, dying, lying on the floor. I hadn't fucking laid eyes on you in five years, didn't recognize you right away. Do you remember what you said?"

" _Chloe. I'm...so sorry. Should have been there. I should have...been there. Last five years. All of it. Tried to save you so many times. Because I love you. I'll always...love...you."_

Max closed her eyes. She smiled serenely, and confidently breathed out, "Yes. I remember now. Every word of it. I even remember what I did next."

Chloe reached up, rubbing nervously at her neck and forehead. "Jesus...I just got chills down my neck. Did you mean it, Max?"

"Yes. Every word of it. Now, more than ever."

Chloe squeezed the tears out of her eyes, before glancing up at the ceiling, unable to face her.

"God damn...Max! I don't get this! I really don't get any of this shit. It's hella freaking me out. I don't know what's going on, but I know something major happened. With all of it. I mean, look at you. The way you look, the way you act! It's like you don't even belong here! And...I-" She held out a hand in order to keep Max from reacting. "I don't mean that in a bad way. I mean, it's like you're so mysterious, and you've seen things and know shit. A lot more than most of us. Something clearly happened to you. Changed you. I don't know what. The only thing I _do_ know is that my best friend since I was five went away, and I never saw her again. Not until the day I was supposed to suddenly fucking die! This worthless punk chick who hated the world, and didn't care that the world hated her back!"

Chloe was on the verge of sobbing, "I don't see you again, until the day you come back and take that bullet for me. And there was this look in your eyes - like. Like...you were so fucking _happy_ to die for me!"

"We...we were friends. For a really long time, Chloe." Max sighed. She ached to break down and confess everything to her, but fear held her back. That, and the need to help Chloe come to a point she needed to reach on her own.

"Bullshit! It was more than that! You meant it! You must have had like...two seconds to decide what to do, and you didn't even blink. You took that bullet, _my bullet_ and...and I don't know...I mean...if our places were reversed..."

The dam burst, and Chloe began to weep openly, overwhelmed by shame.

"Why?! Why me? How could you possibly love...be... _in love_ with some worthless bitch like me? Someone who wouldn't have even..." Chloe grabbed a fistful of napkins, futilely trying to staunch her tears. In a quieter voice, she mournfully asked. "I need to know. Everything. Please. It's tearing me apart."

* * *

So what the hell am I supposed to say?

The truth, I guess.

All of it. As much as I think Chloe can stand to hear.

But I'm still frightened to say it, even though, obviously, I'm dying to make her understand. There's a part of me, that's incredibly freaked out about what's happened to me. I mean, this is going to sound fucking stupid, but what if this is going to keep happening to me?

What if I'm trapped in some weird loop, some kind of...shit, what was the term? Ouroborus? What if I'm condemned to live my life on repeat, falling in love with Chloe, over and over and over again, only to get kicked back to start.

What if life is doing this to me, tormenting me, until I finally relent? Cry uncle, and give my precious Chloe up for good? And what if the whole point of the exercise is that I'm supposed to walk away and live life on my own? Abandon Chloe to her fate, whatever it might be.

Maybe I should just not say anything. Tell Chloe to have a nice life, give her a kiss on the cheek, and walk away for good. Hope that she understands someday that this is all for the best.

But...

I can't.

I would gladly live this way for her, if that's my fate. Go through this piece of time between us, again and again. Ad infinitum. I reach a moment of clarity and realize that I would gladly take another thousand bullets for her. Hold my heart out to her and ask her to take it, another million more. If this is indeed a match of wills between the Universe and I...well? Reality picked the wrong Max Caulfield to test.

So I open my mouth, and I start to tell her the story. Everything. From the day my powers emerged, to the tornado nearly destroying Arcadia Bay. And everything in between.

I tell her, either for the last time, or for the first of a hundred million billion.

It doesn't matter. Because I'm absolutely certain now, that no matter what, I will always love Chloe Price. And she will always find her way back to me. That's our fate. And no one, not any gun-wielding preppy kid, or sociopathic hipster, or corrupt police or even the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune will keep us apart. Not for long.

We are who we always will be.

Riotgrrls in love.

 **THE END**


End file.
